So Sick
by mecca-dog
Summary: Sequel to Mr. Brightside: Add one beautiful mechanic,one hott commander,a pinch of betrayal, Mix and serve with a cherry TornXKiera
1. Avoiding the Unavoidable

Okay, I promised it, and I shall deliver! This is the sequel to my other story, "Mr. Brightside". If you didn't read the first, you could prolly be able to follow this one, but you won't get any of the inside jokes or a lot of the beginning, so you might want to read that one. Oh, and this is a TornXKiera romance, so don't ask me if it will become a JakXKiera in the future, 'cause, well, it won't. I was totally a JxK myself, and still am, but the ending Jak 3 was horrible and then I read "Redemption" and "In the Dark" and I became a TxK lover. Oh and I hate Ashelin and adore Torn, so it all works out D

Summary: Jak 3: A horrible JakXKiera moment, but creator of a new relationship! The continuing of our favorite mechanic and the hott, shy commander's budding relationship. Expect hair cuts, hospital trips, and most importantly, the inevitable – Kiera jumping Torn's bones!

Disclaimer: As with all my other stories, I don't own any of the characters or names (unless I created them, i.e. dukoose) , 'cause if I did, they'd be in the game, coppice?

So Sick

Chapter 1

Avoiding the Unavoidable

A pair of eyes the same colour as ice scanned over the tired groups. A scowl that had been his constant companion for the past week and a half made his rugged, tattooed face even harsher. Hands behind his back, he paced in front of his men while they caught their breath.

"Aten-hut!"

His rough voice rang out in the cool morning air, making everyone of the soldiers stand up straight and salute him.

"Sir, yes Sir!" they all yelled simultaneously.

"At ease men."

All the men relaxed as their commander, Torn, stepped in front of their lines.

"Those drills you just did, they were nothing. From now on, each and every one of you will complete one set every morning. If you want to eat, you've got to run." He glanced around, daring anyone to protest. As a show of their superior training, none did. But no on liked it.

"Alright, you're all dismissed."

Torn walked past the ravenous soldiers towards the gate that lead to the exit of the barracks. Officers and foot men alike saluted the tall man as he walked by; they did **not** want to get on his bad side. Normally, he was strict and fair, hard, but not unbearable. Lately, however, he'd been in a very foul mood, and, although he was still fair, they'd all had to endure grueling training sessions galore. Being on the end of one of his death glares was not a pleasant experience.

Torn continued to walk towards the exit. Someone called his name. He kept walking. They called again, this time louder. Still not listening. Finally, he stood in one spot when the person yelled, "Commander, I order you to stop!"

His jaw tensed and he turned stiffly to the person yelling. A curvy red-head was walking briskly towards him, her suspiciously large lips pursed angrily. He saluted her and stood at attention.

"Yes governess?"

"Knock off the crap Torn. Why have you been avoiding me?" Ashelin snapped, gritting her teeth dangerously.

"I haven't been avoiding you," he told her in his normal, calm gruff voice. This was a lie; he _had_ been avoiding her. For the past week and a half he had been giving himself constant missions, making sure he was as far away from her as possible. And, as an extra precaution, he didn't stay at his apartment or office for more than an hour at a time. A little paranoid, yes, but it had worked. Up until then, that is.

"Yes you have!" she barked back at him. A few staggering men looked on curiously, but ran away after she sent a look of pure venom their way. They didn't want to face her wrath.

"No, I've just been busy," he continued in that same calm voice, which was starting to both creep her out and give her the shivers; it was creepy because he was only calm when he was either _really_ angry or hurt, and it gave her the shivers because, well, his voice gave any sane female the shivers.

She let out a frustrated, then said more quietly, "Look Torn, I think I know what this is about–"

"I need to go," he cut her off abruptly, avoiding her gaze, "I'm already late for...something."

She growled and attempted to grab his arm, but he was off through the gate, running in long strides she could never catch.

He kept running until he could duck into one of the narrow allies between buildings. Good, she hadn't followed him. He didn't know what was worse: her trying to make amends with him or ignoring him. Either was as painful as the other. Every time he looked at her, he was reminded of what he'd seen in her office eleven days ago. He didn't want to hear her explanation, one that surely ended in 'You never said anything', and preferred not talking to her if it pertained to that. But he felt ill whenever he saw her and Jak, her now 'Official' boyfriend, together. They were actually dating now, something that ripped into Torn like a dagger. He didn't put any blame on the blonde guy; it really wasn't his fault. Truly, it wasn't anyone's fault, not even Ashelin's. Sure, she kissed Jak, and what was more, he had kissed her back, but he himself hadn't made a whole lot of effort to win her back. That just wasn't how he was.

Torn, who'd been leaning against the dirty brick wall of the alley, got up in order to head back to HQ, when pain stabbed at his temple. He took a deep breath and started walking again any ways. He'd been getting these pains– along with dizzy spells and the shakes– frequently; they didn't bother him. He walked slowly to his office, about a block away.

He entered the building five minutes later, still dizzy but the pain in his head slowly ebbing away. As soon as he stepped into the hallway, he was hailed by his secretary, a middle-aged woman with rapidly greying raven hair.

"Sir, there's a slight problem," she said in her quick, fidgety manner.

"Yes Lynn, what is it?"

"Well, one of the cruisers looks busted and is going at a snails pace. I looked at your schedule and saw you actually had an opening (what a concept) for a few hours..."

"Can't you have someone else take it?"

Torn didn't really want to have to _socialize_ with anyone for however long it would take, and with his luck, it'd be a total jerk. 'Wait, isn't our new mechanic–'

"Well, that Jinx guy said he'd gladly take it to Kiera's but I–"

"Jinx the one with those nasty cigars?"

"The one and only."

"And Kiera, green hair, green eyes?"

"Who else? I can give Jinx a call if–"

He stopped her from reaching for the phone.

"That's all right, I need to talk to Kiera any ways. What garage is the cruiser in?"

"Number 7."

He nodded towards her and walked back into the elevator. "Okay, thanks Lynn."

/ns/

Lynn was right, the cruiser really was slow as heck. It took him half an hour to go three block over to Kiera's garage. When he arrived in front of the building, he parked it and stepped out of the cruiser.

The main door was half way open, allowing him to duck under and go inside. Kiera was bent under the hood, searching for something or other. She didn't seem to know he came in and went on tinkering with the engine. Torn decided he should get her attention soon, because even though his head hurt, that voice that was so well known in her presence was still able to comment on how she was standing.

"Hey," he simply said, hoping his voice didn't sound to harsh.

Kiera startled a little bit, jumping and nearly smacking her head off the hood. She emerged from the inside of the car, it seemed, in slow motion. As she turned towards him, her beautiful aqua hair swayed back and forth smoothly before it settled back in position, and he was almost positive it would smell like fresh picked apples. Her large green eyes looked to him, shining brightly against her milky white skin. Her face lit up as she smiled at him, and she put her wrench down and walked over to him.

"Torn! Hey, what are you doing here?"

Anyone else who was that cheery would've probably had their head smacked, but he just couldn't get annoyed by her. There was something about her( 'A quality!' he reminded the voice) that he liked. He loved being around her, she just made him feel...better. The pain in his head felt cured for the moment and he actually smiled and said, "Well, we've got a junk cruiser that needs repaired. It was either I bring it or Jinx, so..."

"Eww, thanks. I'm not so sure he learned his lesson last time."

They traded smirks, both remembering how the vile pyrotechnician had nearly wet himself after Torn almost killed him for taking a grab at Kiera. It was just too funny.

"Where's it at?" she said, getting down to business now.

"Out in front. Let me pull it in."

Kiera watched the tall man walk out of the garage. She hadn't said anything, but she was really worried about him now. He wasn't just lean anymore, he was downright emaciated! He was still overworking himself, she could tell, despite promising her he wouldn't. He looked surlier than usual too, and his eyes showed he was depressed. About what she didn't know though. Did something happen to him and Ashelin? Oh, yeah, the governess and Jak were now 'official', that was probably a real drag. Kiera just wished he wouldn't take it out on himself.

She sighed and hit the button to raise the garage door the whole way. He was a grown man; she needed to let him handle things himself. The petite mechanic had to giggle, however, when she saw the cruiser pull in. It had to be the _slowest_ thing she had ever seen. Torn scowled at her and said, "Yeah, haha, real funny," which caused her to laugh harder and for him to smile.

"That, is slow!" she said, "What happened to it?"

"Well, I have the sneaking suspicion one of the younger officers took his date out in it and let her drive it, but I really don't know."

"Well, we'll soon find out wont we?"

She popped the hood up and put on a pair of gloves. She didn't say anything, outside the occasional 'hmmm' or 'what's this I see?', for a couple of minutes. Finally, she extracted herself from the engine and turned towards the commander.

"Shouldn't take too long to fix, maybe a half hour at most, probably more like fifteen minutes though. Might as well grab a chair, no use leaving and coming back."

He did as he was told and took a seat in a spinney chair near her tool bench. They talked about random things that came to mind; work, her father, refrigerators (not as random as you'd think), and dancing.

"I don't dance Keer," he told her with a stern look she wasn't able to see, "So don't try to convince me to give it a chance, because it won't happen."

"Come on, it's fun!"

"How is humiliating yourself fun?"

"You wouldn't humiliate yourself," she said with an eye roll _he_ couldn't see, "The only people who look stupid are the ones who get drunk and start to strip or something, like Tess."

"Wait, what about Tess?"

"I didn't tell you? Well, remember how I went dancing the other night? Tess ended up doing a little strip tease for the DJ after drinking four shots of whiskey and a strawberry daiquiri."

"What'd the guy do?"

"He got totally freaked out and stood up on his chair until we grabbed her!"

They both were laughing by then. Suddenly, Torn felt really dizzy and had to grasp the back of the chair. The spell soon passed and Kiera didn't notice because of the hood obscuring her view of him.

"So, uh, how did the rest of the night go? Were those girls all bitchy?" he asked, still holding on to the chair.

Kiera grimaced. She'd almost forgot about the morons who had come with her and Tess to the club.

"Yes! I don't know what's worse – them bugging me about Jak or ignoring me while they talk about all the 'dangerous missions' they'd been on. They think I'm a weak little girl and it pisses me off!"

"You still up for learning how to shoot?" he questioned.

At this she looked out from behind the hood. She'd figured he'd forgotten about their little deal. She wondered if that meant he remembered that small kiss she'd given him. Probably not, it was just a kiss on the cheek. His very nice smelling cheek...

"Hell yeah!" she exclaimed with a huge, stomach flipping smile. Then she became more serious.

"But do _you _want to teach me? I mean, you've got much better things to do, and I'd probably be horrid at it, I don't want to waste your time–"

"Of course I want to teach you," he interrupted her, "And it wouldn't be a waste of my time, I like to work with y– weapons. It's a good idea for you to learn how to use a gun. As long as you take it serious, which I know you will, I'll teach you," he told her. He could tell she would take it very seriously. She was very mature and he could trust her.

"Are you _positive_ you don't mind?"

"Would I lie? Why don't you meet me tomorrow at the gun course, around...eleven? How's that sound?"

She smiled at him, causing his stomach to flip yet again.

"That sounds great. And I really appreciate it too. You're the first person to treat me like an equal in this town, not like a kid or a slut. It really means a lot to me. Thanks."

He blushed and stuttered out, "Um, I, uh, your welcome."

"And, your cruiser is done," she said wolfishly, putting down the hood and pulling off her gloves.

He got up and hopped inside. Just like she said, it sounded smooth.

"See you tomorrow," he said as he pulled out of the garage.

"Yep!" she yelled as he sped down the street, a grin on her face.

/an/

well, that took me about 4 days to type, no lie. Okay, so the first 3 were spent playing with the clip art, but I try! Sorry, but I couldn't have our two love birds tearing at each others clothes yet (not that I'm promising anything! ;D), I needed to set up the plot.

Next chapter: Kiera learns how to shoot y'all! And might even teach the commander a thing or two! Lol


	2. Shot to the Heart, and You're to Blame

NHey all! It seems like this chapter took _forever_ to write. Maybe not. Anyway, here it is! Oh, and the humorous scene between Kiera and her father, well, I made an allusion to Mr. B (favorite new story word, meaning a hint ;D), see if you can figure it out. Well, if you think about it, this whole sequel is an allusion... on with the story!

Disclaimer: One day, when I'm rich, I'm gonna own ND and come back and say I _do _own the Jak universe. But until then, I don't.

So Sick

Chapter 2

Shot to the Heart and You're to Blame...

"Dear, why aren't you eating anything?"

Kiera looked up from her half eaten bagel to her likewise green father. They sat at the round oak table in their kitchen, eating breakfast and chatting as only a father and daughter can. She hadn't noticed she wasn't really eating until he'd pointed it out. She was in a very good mood and always had trouble eating when she was excited. Which she was. About a certain appointment she had scheduled for eleven o'clock. And nervous too.

What if she screwed up? What if she shot some one on accident? What if she was horrible? What if he laughed at her?

That last question plagued her the most. In the back of her mind she knew he wouldn't laugh at her, but he'd most likely be disappointed in her if she messed this up. That was what she truly couldn't bear. He was taking his time to teach her, the least she could do was learn it and make him proud. If she could.

"I'm eating," she told him, taking a small bite of the unappealing bread to prove it.

"You're not on one of the idiotic diets are you?" the green sage said alarmedly. "Precursors, you are aren't you!"

"Daddy, I'm not–"

"Sweety, you don't need to lose any weight, you're perfectly thin! Just because you bust size had increased–"

"Dad! 1. I am **not** on a diet! And 2. How the heck did you know my bra size went up?"

"Well, Kiera dear, I _do_ wash all the laundry, and I'm your father; I can tell these things. And it's perfectly natural! You're still seventeen and can still grow at this age. But don't get me off topic? Do you promise me you're not on a diet?"

"Yes, daddy, I swear I'm not on one!" she said, slapping a hand against her forehead in embarrassment. She prayed he hadn't said anything to anyone about her larger cup size. But knowing him...

"And I'm just not all that hungry today," she continued, still debating whether or not he'd told anyone. Probably the old lady in the flat next door, but she didn't talk to anyone but her fourteen cataries. Maybe she was safe.

"Well, I do trust you, and you aren't overly insecure about yourself."

"Of course daddy. Now, you didn't tell anyone about that whole bra thing did you?" she asked him anxiously.

"Well, as a matter of fact..."

/t/

Torn looked at his watch and scowled. 00:53:64 seconds. His grandmother could've sprint a quarter mile faster than that!

"Aten-hut!"

The exhausted men winced. Their commander was in a foul mood.

"That was pathetic men! It took you over fifty-three seconds to run that! How do you expect to be able to catch the person you're after if you can't outrun them? It's not all about gun handling, you need to be in excellent physical condition as well," the tattooed man told them. Then, in a much more congenial voice, continued.

"Tomorrow is an endurance day. Those that have trouble with speed may find this easier, since it's not about how fast but how far and how long. Jog one lap and then you can head up to the dining hall."

Some of the men exchanged glances. Many of them were worried about the commander. He just wasn't himself lately and looked pretty depressed and surly. Something had to have happened in his, exceedingly private, personal life.

Said introvert walked to his office in the barracks as soon as he assigned the lap. His men were right in thinking something personal had happened. The previous evening, there had been a meeting for all the really important people in government, meaning Ashelin was there. they didn't speak, outside of business, and he actually wasn't feeling like shit by the end of it. Then Jak walked in.

Ashelin was busy with a few guys from the economics department, so he and Jak talked for a minute. And, believe it or not, they were perfectly friendly. They harbored no bad feeling towards each other, really; what happened a month ago was forgiven, and Torn held no contempt for the new couple. So, they were getting along fine when Ashelin decided to saunter over.

She, being the wonderfully thoughtful person she was, gave her boyfriend a big kiss when he was in range. Then she informed Torn about how Jak was there to take her our on a date and whisked the blonde hero, who threw an apologetic glance at him, out of the room.

It was a good thing he had an expert poker face, because he didn't need her to know how badly he wished he could drown himself in the fish tank.

Instead, he chose to jog a few laps on the same track he'd order his men to run on the following morning. It was dark by then and he had no spectators of his self abuse besides the faint stars peeking out from behind the smog. He _knew_ it wasn't his fault; Ashelin was just being a contemptuous bitch and wanted to make him jealous. Only it didn't make him jealous, it made him miserable. He knew he shouldn't care, so he punished himself in return. Or in this case, his men.

He again scowled down at his watch. And his spirits lifted; it was 7:56 a.m. only three more hours until eleven. Then he'd get to see Kiera again.

At the current time, she seemed like the only person worth talking to. It might have sounded harsh to all the other people he was around on a daily basis, but it was how he felt. She was smart and funny, and wasn't the innocent, demur girl she appeared to be. Kiera was a strong girl and he respected that. Not to mention she was undeniable beautiful.

'Too bad she's only seventeen, huh?'

'Oh crud, not you again!'

'What's the big deal? You've even said she was mature (and not just emotionally, eh?)'

'How many times must I tell you, you perv, she's underage!'

'What's your excuse for not popping her hood gonna be when she turns eighteen? That won't be long from now, you know.'

'Um, well...'

'Ha! You can't think of one can you, Conscience? Next birthday we'll be able to–'

'Will you both can it, we have work to do!'

/k/

Kiera was starting to fidget now. It was 10:46 am, meaning she four minutes left before she had to head on over to the gun course, and she was anxious to get out of the garage, which was unusually stuffy that day. She glanced over to the shiny hub cap she had mounted on the wall for the fifth time that minute. Its gleaming surface provided a make shift mirror for her to preen in. Not that she was preening. Much.

Okay, so she wanted to look good, sue her. Or at least clean, owing to the multitude of times she'd scrubbed her palms and scanned her pale face for any trace of the grease she worked with daily. And smell good, as a matter of fact. Obviously a girl can't be oil scented, so she believed a spritz of her favorite fruity perfume was in order.

She glanced down at her watch again: 10:49 am. One more minute. She wanted to see Torn badly. There was something about the guy, his whole persona, she found highly attractive. She adored how shy he got around her and how surprisingly funny he could be when he wanted. He was quiet and contemplative; jokey and sarcastic; tall and thin; hott and husky. He just came off as a grumpy tough guy with tattoos and dreads.

10:50 am. She raised her arms, looked up to the heavens, and exclaimed, "Thank you!" in a rather loud voice. Then of course, she realized where she was and looked sheepishly around for anyone who might have witnessed that. Fortunately for the question of her sanity, the only person around was her nutty next door neighbor, who was walking past the garage with four cataries trailing her. The old woman took absolutely no notice of her, so Kiera hopped onto her zoomer and took off. She sped down the mercifully uncrowded streets, loving the feeling of the wind through her hair.

Kiera arrived in front of her destination with four minutes to spare. She was curious as to what Torn would be teaching her. Obviously how to use a gun, but which one? Oh, there he was. She reminded herself not to get distracted by the many qualities he possessed that turned her into a, well, mindless, drooling lust zombie. She needed to learn this stuff and get good at it! She needed to shove it in those skanky bimbos ugly faces! She needed to...

'_Oooh, he's wearing white today. His skin lookes really good in white. And his eyes look extra blue to..._'

"Hey Kiera."

'_That voice_...'

"Hey Torn, how's it going?"

He shrugged his, rather nice might she add, shoulders, "It's all good. How about you? You ready for this?"

"Defenitely," she told him as she walked into the building, "All though, I don't promise I'll be any good at it."

"You never know," he replied, following her inside. He had to cock his head to the side a few inches to avoid smacking his head on the doorway. "A lot of guys say than and turn out to be pretty good at it."

She smelled really good today. Like fruit. Concentrate, Torn, concentrate!

The girl in speculation smirked at him. "Well commander, if you can get me to be able to shoot what I'm aiming at, you truly are the greatest military mind of our time."

Her smirk grew wider as he flushed a little at her remark. He was cute when he was flustered.

"Um, uh, any ways, first things first: you need a weapon."

He walked over to a pile of crates against the wall.

"And there just happens to be a new shipment right here," he continued while he tore open one of the crates with his bare hands. Yeah, you heard me right, with his bare hands.

Although Kiera had enjoyed this display quite a bit, she would not let her mind wander to the possibilities of what else those hands could do. She wasn't going to get distracted, remember?

"This is a light weight, high impact pistol," he said as he passed the fire arm over to her, "See, not heavy, easy to control, a good beginners gun. Now, I'll get into safety and how to take care of it later, but first I'll show you how to hold it."

He took one of his own pistols from its holster around his waist and held it up in front of him. She copied his stance the best she could and looked to him for guidance.

"Like this?" she questioned. She wanted to make it clear she was completely serious about this.

"Watch you posture," he instructed mildly. He was obviously a veteran of teaching this and knew how to handle people's egos. He stepped closer to her. Much closer. Not that she was complaining.

"Your back should be straight, but not stiff. Same with your arms. They need to be firm but shouldn't be all tense. And your shoulders," he placed his hands on them, "need to be dropped."

He pushed her shoulders down gently to the right position. Kiera was fully delighted by his 'hands on approach', but still had enough sense to listen to what he was saying through the haze of cinnamon he gave off.

Torn's brain, however, finally caught up with his hands and he removed them, his cheeks reddening slightly.

"Wait, what about my legs? Is there a specific way I need to stand?" she asked him, hoping he didn't notice the peachy-pink highlighting her cheek bones.

"Well, it depends on the person," he told her, stepping back to his original spot, "and what's the most comfortable. A lot of people get nervous and tense up when they handle a gun. The trick is to relax. Most people stand with their feet around a foot apart, though."

She tried to relax like he said, but it was hard not to get nervous when you're holding something potentially dangerous, and in front of a rather good-looking commander none the less.

"Better," he praised of her more comfortable stance, "Now you just need to learn to shoot it."

"Easier said than done."

"We'll just load it with blanks, for now any ways. Go over to that crate," he pointed to the pile of boxes, "and grab an ammo box that says 'bc77' on the side."

She obeyed and handed him the small cardboard box. He opened it up and inside were several blank cartridges. He picked two out, handed her one, and threw the box an top of a closed crate.

"This gun's really simple to load, too. Just slide open this slot: he did so to the indicated compartment, "slide in the cartridge, and turn the dial."

She did what he said with her blank. Then he nodded and continued.

"Good. Now, you can have up to ten bullets in at one time. Load the rest of the slots and then I'll show you how to aim correctly."

"This should be interesting," she said while she grabbed a box of blanks.

/jd/

Jak and Daxter cruised down the street on Jak's hover board, intent on not hitting the FL. Back when the KG was still around, they'd run over them on purpose and try to break their personal records. But alas, those days were over, the FL wasn't evil, and they didn't have the heart to hurt them. Not to mention Torn would have their heads if his men were the subjects of hit and runs.

Right now they were headed to the port for the same reason: their girl friends were driving them insane!

It all started when Daxter tried one of his 'genius' pick up lines on a girl that came into the Naughty Ottsel, and Tess over heard it. Now, for two days straight, she'd been pestering him about whether or not he found her attractive as an ottsel. Of course he did, but she wouldn't believe him and continued to ask him at the oddest moments, like when he was making a sandwich. Finally, when Jak had walked into the bar around noon, he'd begged for a ride out of there.

Jak was having just as much trouble with Ashelin. They'd started dating about two weeks earlier. And what was more was, he really did like her. Really. She'd grown on him the more they talked...but he still loved Kiera. He couldn't help but compare the two women. The only thing the red-head had an advantage in was, well, she could kick ass. But Kiera was still smarter, sweeter, funnier, prettier, even if she was a total damsel in distress.

Ashelin had other faults too, like being, for the lack of a better word, clingy as hell. He couldn't go ten feet without her demanding to know where he was going and she was constantly suspicious of him. Where was he going? Was _she _going to be there too? Maybe she should come along. Had she been like that with Torn too? No wonder the guy was so grumpy all the time!

Jak'd finally been able to shake her off at one of her meetings she had to attend and high tail it to the N.O. for a little Daxter time. So they decided to go check out the new gun shipments at the gun course. Maybe they could _borrow_ a few new upgrades for the peace-maker. They were nearing the building when Daxter said, "Hey, isn't that Kiera?"

Squinting, Jak recognized the emerald coloured hair and petite frame of the girl he loved. And the tall, lean frame of his commander as well. He hopped off the board and crouched behind a parked car, not far from where the two were. They were laughing about something, he couldn't hear what, but he did hear Torn speak.

"Yeah, haha, that's never happened before in all the years I've worked with those pistols. How did you manage to get hit by a target, fall, shoot, and actually hit four other targets? And _how_ do you get hit by a target at all? Haha, that was the funniest thing I've ever seen in my life: your face as you got smacked with a cardboard cut-out civilian!" he then dissolved into laughter again.

"Oh shut up! I have almost no coordination! It was–haha It was–" she couldn't finish her sentence as she too began to laugh hysterically.

Finally, Torn wiped his eyes and leaned against the wall, breathing heavily. He hid it well, but Jak could tell he'd just had another dizzy spell. He'd had about a dozen when he'd talked to them the night before. He was a good actor though.

The commanders smile came back quickly, however, and he and Kiera grinned at each other.

"Okay, so you still need a little practice, but you did better than a lot of my men did on there first try."

"You're just saying that," she said, but she was blushing.

"No, I'm not. I think you have natural talent with that thing, but like I said before, you need some more practice. And you need to not get in fights with cardboard people too," he grinned again, "How about we try this again in a couple of days, same time?"

"Sure, how about next Tuesday?"

"Sounds good to me. I'll see you then," he told her as he started the zoomer he'd came on. "Don't fall!"

"Quit making fun of me!" she yelled after him as he sped down the street. She grinned and turned back to her own zoomer, then said, "Oh crap" and ran back into the building.

Jak came out from behind the parked zoomer and exchanged a glance with Daxter. "We never heard that, got it?"

"Okay buddy," the ottsel agreed.

They took on looks of the utmost casualty and strolled towards the gun course. Kiera walked back out with her keys clutched in her small hand. She then saw the two of them and smiled, causing Jak's stomach to flip.

"Hey guys! What are you doing here?" She was happy Daxter was there with Jak; it made it easier to talk to him.

"Kiera! Well, we heard about a new shipment of guns and thought we'd check it out," Daxter answered, then casually added, "how about you? What brings you here to this place?"

"Oh, um, nothing. A guy just needed, uh, a part and I met him here." she didn't want to tell them just yet. She wanted to surprise everyone.

"Why here? He should've come to _you_, not the other way around," Jak added. He wanted her to tell them why she was _really_ there. And show her he still cared.

"Nah, I needed the fresh air any ways. That garage was getting stuffy. But I still need to get back to work, so I'll talk to you guys later. See ya!" she got quickly onto her zoomer and left them in front of the building.

"I wonder what she's up to," Daxter said, "Let's go snoop around the inside and see if there's any clues about what her and Tattooed Wonder were up to!"

"I'm curious too. What's she hiding?"

/an/

Jak's snooping! what will he deduce about Kiera and Torn? You'll soon find out!

Sorry, I know nothing about guns, so I made up a lot of that stuff! And I used rather about 24 times in this chapter! Jeez!

Question: Does Torn have a last name? Seriously, I want to use it, so tell me! I could always make one up, but I was thinking 'bout having a contest for the best name! R&R!


	3. Feeling Faint

Hey y'all! This is mecca-dog coming at you from Steel City Raceway in Delmonte, PA, waiting for the races to start back up (they had to call an ambulance in, long story). Any ways, I finally finished this chapter 'bout 4 minutes ago and figured since my lap top had a little battery left I'd start typing! Well, I'm luke warm about this chapter; there's parts I like and parts I don't. You be the judges!

Disclaimer: I own the mind that came up with this off-the-wall 'what if' and that's it!

So Sick

Chapter 3

Feeling Faint

Kiera felt that the weekend was going by unmercifully slow. Now, most people feel the opposite effect, finding there to not be sufficient time to do absolutely nothing and be bored. But no, not our beautiful mechanic, that would be a blessing. No, she was going insane waiting for Tuesday to come already.

The aqua-haired girl sat in her very red room, wishing she'd at least nicked a pistol from the gun course. Today was Sunday, four days since she'd met with a certain commander to learn basic gun handling. And, oh, how she wished she was doing that at that moment.

Shooting was not nearly as difficult as she'd thought it'd be. I mean, you're shooting small pieces of metal, which is going intensely fast, at moving targets, you'd think it would majorly blow. No, come to find out it wasn't so bad. In fact it was quite enjoyable, relaxing even, to shoot lead at card board cut-outs (providing you didn't get attacked by one of the aforementioned targets). But most of all, it was different. Don't misunderstand her, she still loved being a mechanic. But, well, it was May and she had a serious case of spring fever. The garage was so stuffy and grim, even with the front door opened up. Shooting was a nice change of scenery. Not to mention Torn was an excellent instructor.

She got up from her bed and paced around her room. The window was open, letting in a steady, warm breeze and making the opaque vermillion curtains flutter. Outside she could hear the normal amount of talking, laughing, threatening, and swearing. Ah, the peace, the serenity, the–

"Sweetheart, would you like some keesh?"

Kiera jumped a little when her father yelled. She'd almost forgotten he was home; he was spending so much time talking to their neighbor with the catary fetish, she barely saw him all that day.

"Uh, no thanks daddy. I was, um, just about to go take a walk!"

She groped around under her bed for her sneakers. She loved Samos dearly, but honestly, he made the planet's most repulsive keesh! Seriously! She'd given a piece to one of the stray crocadogs lurking around the garage once and the poor thing started chocking and hacked it back up! Besides, a walk was a nice idea; dodging some of the maniac drivers out there was a great adrenaline rush.

She crept quietly down the hall and to the door, scrambling down the steps and into the tepid sunlight.

'Finally, some fresh air,' she thought as she headed down the street, not realizing she was being watched.

/ji/

A stocky man with dirty blonde hair, pulled back into a ponytail, and storm grey eyes leaned against the dusty brick wall. He brought a nauseating cigar to his lips and took a long drag, leisurely watching people, mostly women, as they walked by. A delightful Sunday afternoon.

Yeah, screw that. Jinx was bored as heck. He probably shouldn't have told that one guy he looked like a turkle. The man totally did, but the fight that ensued got him kicked out of the bar he'd been at, and during happy hour to boot! Now the pyrotechnician was slouched against the wall, wondering what he could possible do to entertain himself. If only the women were better looking (or at least had bigger tits) then he could've picked up a few of them. But all of them were ass ugly and flat as a back, from what he'd seen. He could always go to another bar, but most of them had him permanently kicked out too.

He took another drag and tapped his cigar on the wall to rid it of the excess ashes. Maybe he could go try out a few new toys in the forest. That would make ol' greeny happy, wouldn't it? He figured he might as well get a little exercise and made to move forward when a flash of aqua caught his eye; aqua _hair_. A feral smile slowly made its way onto his unshaven face. There was only one person in all of Haven with that colour hair, a cute little mechanic with matching green eyes and a very perky...persona. Looks like boredom was over!

He lurked up and began to follow her at a casual pace down the crowded street. It wasn't as if he planned to _do _anything; he would never sink to _that_ level. But he did love to provoke her. Kiera was pretty easy-going, but when she was angry, damn! she was smokin'!

'Although,' he thought with a barely suppressed shudder, 'I'm not sure I want a repeat performance of last times particular explosion.'

He still had trouble being in the same building as the cutie's body guard without getting a case of the shakes. So, yeah, he shouldn't have grabbed her round little posterior, but sheesh! he didn't need his throat slit! He figured the commander was getting a few 'personal tune-ups' from her. What other reason did he have for going all psycho?

Jinx looked around. Oh crud, he'd been spacing out for a minute and lost track of her! Wait a minute... He narrowed his beady grey eyes and flipped around quickly. Then cursed and jumped a foot in the air when he locked eyes with a rather annoyed Kiera. She stood with her pale arms crossed, hips at an angle, peachy lips pursed. He would've thought this stance was totally hot if he hadn't nearly had a heart attack.

"Jinx, what the hell are you doing?" she asked him testily, furious by his presence.

"Kiera, sweetheart! Haven't seen you in forever!" he responded, regaining his composure.

She rolled her viridian eyes.

"Didn't you learn your lesson last time? Or do I need to give Torn a call?"

"No! Uh, I mean, how-how is the commander these days? I never see the cheerful fellow anymore."

At this, he noticed, she looked a little worried. Hm, what was up with that?

"Torn is...fine. He's just..."

"Just what?" he prompted. Hey, curiosity killed the catary.

"Just overworked I guess," she said, still sounding like she longed to wring her hands and sigh. Which she then did. Jinx internally smiled very devil like.

'Maybe she needs some _comforting_, she seems upset. Now would be a good time to make my move.'

As if reading his mind, Kiera's head snapped up from staring at the ground and she glared at him warningly.

"Look Jinx, two things. One: What I said pertaining to Torn doesn't need to be repeated, and Two: If you ever stalk me again I'll have said commander sick the whole FL on your ass, got it?"

"Okay, Okay, calm down! No need to drag ol' dreads into this! You'll never see me again!"

She smiled triumphantly.

"Perfect."

/t/

Torn walked into his apartment, thoroughly drenched from the torrential rainfall th e city was currently experiencing. Shutting the door, he shook his head, sending droplets of water sprinkling over the dark blue rug he stood on.

"Damn cold," he muttered to his equally soaked boots, having trouble undoing the laces on account of his shaking fingers. How could you not _love_ spring weather: sunny and warm one minute, pouring and frigid the next.

Finally, he was able to release his duck feet from their leather prisons and padded softly into his bedroom. Water was dripping all over the cherry hardwood floor, but he really didn't care right then; he wanted to be warm; dry and warm. As soon as he reached the doorway, he removed all his weapons and threw them unceremoniously onto the bed. The room was amiably done, compliments of the HQ Compound decorating crew, in navy blue and black, with cherry furniture. The room reflected his tastes well, and also its lack of use; it was clean but with the apparent evidence of someone being in a rush. Torn was barely ever at his flat and when he was he never really got used to it. To him, the old Underground was his home.

The commander grabbed some clean, or he guessed it was, clothing and entered the immaculate white bathroom. As was his custom, he suspiciously checked for occupants and double locked the door. Mar forbid someone see him without a shirt on! As soon as the warm water touched his skin, however, he relaxed. Sighing, he let his mind wander to the day's events.

Between rabid yakkows and bomb threats, the missions he'd been on seemed more exhausting than usual. For the latter problem, a particular bomb expert had to be called in. Jinx had been a lot more cautious about what he did around Torn, probably remembering their last encounter. The heavy smoker had been exceedingly polite and respectful to the women around them when he had finished defusing the bomb. He'd even gone as far as to not 'comfort' the lady that had threw herself at 'her hero'. It was obvious he didn't want to go another round with the taller, and much more intimidating, man.

Then there was the women he had to deal with. All of them were scared out of their minds, fearing the bomb would go off while they were in the vicinity. Of course that meant when the threat was over, they all sobbed for joy and thanked him over and over. And over. One even said she'd name her unborn child after him, whether it be a girl or a boy. And a multitude needed to be calmed down. So, guess who had to do it. How many women had cut off all circulation to his head as they sobbed into his chest? It was only the females though; all the guys shook it off and went home, complaining how slow they were.

Torn shut off the water and hopped out of the shower quickly. He dried off in half a minute flat, not taking to the idea of being without clothing for any extended amount of time. But he wasn't shy! Nope, not the least bit bashful!

WondHe came out of the bathroom, steam exiting from behind him. He'd put on a pair of baggy black sweat pants and a likewise baggy t-shirt, both of which amplified how lanky he'd gotten in the past month. He looked at the sleek silver digital clock on his bedside table. It read 1:34 am. He was so hungry! But nothing was open at this time of night, and the chances of there being anything edible in the small kitchen the apartment offered was the same chance as Errol being 100 heterosexual. So instead, he just collapsed onto the bed and fell asleep.

'Tomorrow is a good day,' he remembered before he drifted off, 'it's Tuesday.'

/k/

"Mornin' Daddy! Pancakes or waffles?"

Samos blinked up at his daughter. How she could be so awake and cheerful at 7:00 am, and on a Tuesday none the less, would forever be a mystery to him. Really it was odd she was even cheerful at all. He knew from past experience she was not a morning person.

"Good morning sweety. Waffles would be wonderful," he told her with a loving smile, which she returned.

"Good, 'cause that's the batter I made!"

Sure enough, she had already plugged in the waffle iron, the one that made waffles shaped like bull's eyes. She'd even set the table, complete with her cactus, which for some odd reason had on sunglasses, as a center piece.

"Why Kiera, you're in a good mood! What's got you so chipper?"

She suppressed a giggle at the language he used. Chipper! Haha!

"Oh, nothing, just that it's so sunny after that storm all last night! How could I not be happy?"

She smirked while she popped a hot breakfast cake out onto a plate and her father went on about the weather. She had other reasons to be happy, and one of them was about a foot taller than her and giving her lessons on gun handling. Finally, Tuesday had arrived!

/t/

Great. Just wonderful. He'd caught a cold.

Torn stood in the line at the Moondoe on Tyrell Avenue, trying to suppress the coughs that were inevitably going to start. All he wanted was some coffee (and maybe some aspirin and a muffin), but of course the guy at the counter screwed up the guy ahead of him's order. He knew he should've went to True Haven, but this place was closer and he'd needed some caffeine fast. He'd been up since five attempting to stop coughing (not that he'd made any head way). Finally they got the problem fixed and he moved up to the counter, ordering a vente black coffee.

He got to work a few minutes later, thoroughly ready for a break. He had the chills, but his face felt warmer than the rest of his body, signifying he probably had a mild fever. He plowed right through work though, keeping himself by counting down to eleven.

When the time came, he set out on his zoomer to the gun course. He sorely hoped Kiera wouldn't notice his cold; he didn't want to be babied. How do you respond to someone worrying over you? No one ever had, apart from his mother. Well, Tess did, but he knew how to deter her 'sister fretting' as she called it. Kiera was different. He didn't know why, but she was.

He came to a stop in front of the gun course and got off his zoomer slowly, not wanting to get dizzier than he already was. The affect the coffee had on him had worn off and he felt like something was putting dull pressure on his shoulders. He couldn't understand why he was so tired; he'd slept over four hours the previous night! That was way more than usual. Torn put a hand on the way to steady himself. He knew he'd be fine in a minute.

He could hear the unmistakable sound of a zoomer coming down the street and, chances were, it was Kiera. He didn't want to look weak in front of her so he straightened up and turned towards the noise. Sure enough, he could see the beautiful girl flying at him, which made him feel a little better. She stopped and hopped off next to his zoomer. Her smile faded, however, and was replaced by a look of alarm when she got nearer to him.

"You're sick!" she said without preamble, rushing over to him.

"No, I–" he began, but she cut him off.

"No Torn, don't even try to deny it! You're pale as a ghost! What happened? Do you have a temperature?"

She attempted to reach up and feel his forehead, but he dodged her hand. Blushing lightly from this treatment, he continued to say, "It's just a cold, really. There's no need to go postal, and don't deny you weren't," he added when she opened her mouth to protest.

"Torn, what am I going to do with you?"

He grinned sheepishly and ran his hand over his dreads.

"Don't lose sleep over it. Besides, as long as I can still aim, it's all good."

Truth be told, it was taking all his energy to stand, but she didn't need to know that. He just hoped he could make it through the lesson.

"My health aside, are you ready to get started?"

She knew he was changing the subject, but decided not to press the matter.

"Yep, and I promise I'll ward off any cut-out attacks today."

This brought grins to both their faces as they went inside the big grey building.

The lesson went on fine; he continued with the finer points of gun handling and plenty of much needed practice. Two hours later and she finally got a good feel for the pistol. She went as far as to get a bronze in the level one course. She exited into the main room to see Torn smiling at her.

"Kiera, you're one of the quickest learners I've ever met," he told her, making her cheeks glow from the praise.

"Well, I did have the greatest military mind of our time as a teacher," she countered. The tables turned as his cheeks heated up, making her smile.

He was about to protest when a fit of coughing overtook him and pain exploded on his temple. He felt so weak, so tired...

The last thing Torn saw before passing out was Kiera's beautiful face marred with panic.

/an/

ooooh, cliffy! Sorry, but I couldn't resist! The next chapter will be a doozy I can tell you that! Love it, hate it? R&R! oh, I still need a last name for our hott commander! Add that to you reviews!

HAPPY EASTER!


	4. Soon I Know I'll Wake from this Dream

I'm sorry 'bout the delay! For Enrichment we went to Philly for 2 days and I had no Internet access!

Disclaimer: I'm working on it!

So Sick

Chapter 4

Soon I Know I'll Wake from This Dream

A boy, no older than eleven, sprinted down the shattered street. His heart was pounding and his long leg were fatigued, but he kept up his maniac pace for fear of what was coming. Behind him, a group of men in bright red armor, wielding heavy fire arms marched down the street. Their presence drove all others inside, leaving only the boy outside the relative safety of four walls. He neared the end of the dark street and came up to a house. It had a sense of ruin, a beautiful withering about it. Brass fixtures and dark wood showed prosperity at one time, but were marred by chipped paint and rusted metal. The boy charged in without prelude.

Inside, he slammed the door shut and clicked a set of lock that were most likely the newest thing in the house. Hearing the noise, a women came into the room. Her clear blue eyes scanned his face questioningly.

"Love, what's wrong?" she asked in a soft, motherly voice, "Why are you runn-" she stopped abruptly, then gasped.

"Lacer! Lacer!" she called frantically.

In response, a dark man who towered over the small woman and lanky boy came rushing into the dim parlour. Clenched in his fist was a sharp dagger, posed for use. Before he could ask what was the cause of the alarm, the woman cried out, "Oh Mar, Lacer, they're here!"

The man's caramel eyes widened and he gripped his knife more fiercely.

"We need to get out of here," he commanded in a rough voice, looking at the two that stood before him, "Atem, take him and go through the alley. That should buy us some-"

He was cut off by a hard pounding on the thick, belocked door. Voices shouted into them. The boy could make out they wanted to be let inside so they could "talk". Had he been in a different situation he would've rolled his azure eyes. But the men's true intent was know, so instead he looked toward the taller man for guidance. The man looked back at him, at a loss for what to do. If they tried the back door they could go through the alley. But it was likely they would be caught. But it was the only way...

Signaling them to be quiet and to follow, the man walked quickly through the dilapidated kitchen and to the back door. The light was off and the ancient refrigerator hummed; there was no one there. They came silently closer to the door, praying they would remain unseen.

Their stomachs gave a startled lurch when the helmeted head of one of their pursuers looked into the window. Followed were several more men, calling for more back up. They were surrounded, there was no way out.

The man wouldn't give up without a fight, however. Dagger on the ready, he glared at the masked faces forcing their way inside through the sturdy metal door. He knew there was no way he could escape, but maybe, just maybe, the woman and boy could make it out. That was all he cared about.

The boy was also ready for a fight; he grabbed for possible weapons in a broken old drawer. Inside were a few blunt kitchen knives, not fit for doing any harm. He tried the drawer below it, hoping for better results. He would not let the woman, or the man for that matter, be hurt! Before he could search for more suitable weaponry though, the men in red broke through the door and surrounded them. They drew there guns but did not take aim just yet.

The taller man made to stab one of them but stopped dead in his tracks. One of the soldiers pointed his gun straight at the woman, who had no means to defend herself. His armor was a deeper shade of cardinal, a sign of higher ranking. He lifted up his visor, revealing a furrowed, scarred countenance and tired brown eyes. He smirked at the man frozen in his spot.

"By order of the new ruler of Haven City, Baron Praxis, you are under arrest," the man said with an air of the utmost enjoyment. He opened his mouth to continue, but the arrestee interrupted him.

"You enjoying being Praxis' lap dog?" he raised an eyebrow, "Seems as though he could do better than you, Mender."

This man, Mender, snarled and narrowed his eyes.

"I have no time for this idle talk. I have a bounty to collect, _captain_."

He put venomous stress on the last word and glared at the taller man.

"Over my dead body you bastard!"

A malicious sneer worked its way unto his wrinkled face.

"Ah, I had so hoped you'd say that," he said, a crazed look about his eyes, "You see, I get the same payment whether you be brought in alive, or dead."

In a flash, his pistol's aim moved from the woman to the man glaring at him defiantly.

"Good-bye, Asunder."

A shot rang out before the captain had any time to react. Just as quickly, Mender shot again.

The boy stared down at the lifeless bodies of his parents, his clear blue eyes clouded over with horror. Pain beyond pain assaulted his entire being, ripping organs and grinding at bone. Blood pounded through his head and his breathing became faster and harder. Anger burned his stomach.

Time seemed to go slower as Mender turned towards him, aiming the gun at his heart. He snapped back into realization and dove to the ground and rolled behind a rickety chair a few feet away. The bullet went into the floor boards, sending splinters of wood flying.

Next to him lie the dagger his father had held moments before, seeming to call to him. The boy grabbed it and jumped to his feet. Hatred for the man in front of him forced his teeth to clench and his fingers to dig into his palms. Ruby crescents formed and pooled under his finger nails, but it only made him dig harder.

Mender frowned; what a waste of a bullet. Then he looked back at the boy and smiled mockingly at him.

"I see you father taught you a few things boy. I-"

"Don't you dare talk about my father!" the boy interrupted with a snarl. He made to use the dagger, but the man held his hand up and continued speaking.

"I must say boy, you have spirit. I've decided you need to live."

He nodded to someone the boy couldn't see and everything went black.

/nt/

Torn thrashed weakly and mumbled something through his feverish haze. Kiera smoothed the navy covers down in a worrisome manner befitting of a girlf- mother. Torn had been in a restless sleep for around two hours, drifting in and out of consciousness in intervals. The fever was causing him to have nightmares, probably of things that had already happened to him. He would say a few whispered words and move a bit, sweating and breathing heavily. She thought she'd heard him mention something about his mother a little while before.

He kicked again and divulged more incoherent talk. They sounded different from his other dreams. He was still reliving something horrible, but what she didn't know. Kiera listened closely, trying to understand him. Then it came out distinctly and clear.

"Ashelin, no."

Her heart sank. He was dreaming of _her_. Though, if he was having a nightmare about her, she'd done something to him, something that had hurt him. In fact, he sounded...heart broken. What was he dreaming about that caused him that much pain?

/tn/

A man walked down the empty hall. He was tall and rough looking, emitting a sense of unquestioned superiority and pride. He looked tired and sickly, and even a little depressed.

As he came nearer to a particular door, his eyebrows furrowed and he slowed his walk. He stopped in front of it and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. The white industrial blinds were drawn closed, but a thin crack where they met the end of the window gave a small view inside.

The man sidled up to the window and looked inside. Immediately, his sharp blue eyes clouded over in utter agony. His shoulder dropped from their strong carriage and his warm skin paled. Slowly, as if facing defeat, he pulled back and looked down at the ground. He began to walk again, not noticing the tears falling gently down his cheek.

The fact that is was early morning deterred any witnesses to his anguish. The empty hallway offered no comfort; he was, in every way, alone.

/t/

Torn had absolutely no idea where he was. It was dark and cool, which he was thankful for. It felt vaguely familiar too. Maybe if he moved around a little...

Oooh, sore, very sore. Moving not good.

As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he began to make out his surroundings. The walls were painted black, and he was laying on a long, cherry bed. The blinds were closed, as well as the navy curtains. He felt cool satin sheets and a soft comforter against his skin, and his head was laid on soft pillows. Oh, wait, this was his bedroom. Shows how much time he'd spent at his apartment. The question was: how had he gotten there?

He wracked his brain, trying to remember what had happened before waking up. He could faintly remember dreaming of different things, things that made him feel awful. And he remembered going to work, getting home late, catching a cold. Then meeting Kiera and...he'd passed out.

Torn grit his teeth in vexation. He was ashamed of himself for being so weak. Passing out because of a little _cold_? I was unacceptable! He clenched his fists and made to sit up. His body would pay for its insubordination later, right now he needed to find out how he'd gotten there.

On cue, the door to the bedroom swung open and a revealed a familiar green head. If he hadn't felt dumb before, he was mortified now. He'd passed out in front of _her_. Anyone else would've been bad enough, but _her_? Looks like someone was running laps tonight.

Kiera looked inside, expecting to find him still asleep. Her eyes widened as she saw he was sitting up and she rushed over to him.

"Torn you moron!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around his shoulders and squeezing the life out of him, "I've aged twenty friggin' years because of you! What the hell were you thinking?"

Torn attempted to detach the mechanic from his torso and hasten to explain.

"Uh, Kiera, I didn't mean to- You shouldn't- I was-"

It would've been a lot easier to explain hastily had she not still been practically sitting on his lap. Or he'd had more than a flimsy wife beater on.

She pulled back to look at him, putting on a stern face.

"Torn I-" she started. But her face changed to worried and she put her small hand to his forehead.

"I hope your fever isn't acting up again. Do you feel all right? Your cheeks are pretty warm."

Torn wasn't sure about his fever, but the Voice was back again.

'If we play our cards right, we could get laid!'

'Not now!'

'Seriously! She'd totally do it if we acted sick some more! Quick, cough a few times!'

'Damn libido!'

"I'm fine," he said trying to duck away from her hand.

"That's what you said to me this morning and look what happened!" she retorted scoldingly, "You were completely unconscious when I got you here!"

"Wait, how _did_ you get me here?"

Kiera grimaced slightly. What a trip...

"Well, after nearly having a heart attack, I found your cell phone and called in a favor."

"From who?"

Her frown increased.

"Jinx."

Torn raised an eyebrow and she shrugged.

"Let's just say he owed me."

"For what?"

"For letting him live," she said with a smirk.

"What did he do?" Torn asked, his eyes narrowing slightly and frowning.

"Full of questions today aren't we? Well, nothing actually, just bothering me. But don't go postal on his ass, he was very helpful," she said, noticing the frown.

Kiera had been surprised at Jinx's agreeability. He'd came without complaining and didn't tell anyone like she'd asked him not to do. They'd gotten Torn out in his zoomer and drove to his apartment at the HQ Compound. Luckily, everyone had gone back to work after lunch, so no one saw them. Before he left the unconscious commander and herself, he pulled her aside.

"Look sweetheart, don't worry 'bout ol' dreads. I've seen him pull himself out of some pretty tight spots; he'll be okay."

Kiera didn't know what to say to this and just nodded and smiled faintly at him.

"Oh yeah," he said, poking his head back in the door and smirking, "and go easy on 'em will ya? He is sick ya know!"

He'd left her, shaking her head at his ever suggestive banter, to figure out what to do with 'ol' dreads'.

Kiera felt Torn looking at her and locked eyes with him. She hadn't noticed how close they were until that moment; she was practically on his lap!

"Look Kiera, I-I really a-appreciate what you did." he said, stumbling over his words.

She smiled at him and leaned a little closer.

"Don't mention it. You know I worry about you though. You can't eat nothing, work twenty hour days, and never sleep! I don't want you sick Torn!"

He looked away from her upset eyes ashamedly.

"I'm sorry Kiera. It's just..."

"Just what?"

"Nothing."

"You can tell me, you know."

"I...It's...nothing."

She frowned and fixed her gaze on him, trying to figure him out. Not succeeding, she sighed and stood up.

"Try and get some more sleep, okay? Tomorrow I'll come over again to check on you and then we'll leave."

"Kiera, I have work. Chances are I won't be here."

"Wrong, I called and told them you were going to be in Spargus for a few days on personal business. You **will not** go to work! Is that clear?" she looked sternly at him.

"I'm a grown man!" he said indignantly, "You can't keep me from working!"

"Some grown man! You can't even take care of yourself! I can see your ribs Torn, don't try and tell me it's just a cold! You're killing yourself," her eyes were filling up with tears now, "but I'm not going to let you!"

All his resolution went right out the door. He was a sucker for big green eyes and tears. He put a large hand on her shoulder and sighed.

"I'm sorry Kiera. You-You're right. Look, I'll take a day or two off and rest, okay? No work at all."

She smiled at him and put her hands on her hips.

"That's better. Now, go to sleep and don't worry about tomorrow."

As she started to leave he asked, "Wait, what's tomorrow?"

She paused and looked back, hand on the door handle.

"Oh, I'm taking you to the doctor. Good night commander."

/an/

I like the last part with Torn and Kiera talking. Oh, and the names of 'the boy's' parents are pronounced:

Lacer: Lay-sir

Atem: Ott-em

Bonus to whoever can figure out the connections between those names, plus Mender!

R&R!


	5. Oopsy, I forget the title!

Okay, well the answer to the question I asked last chapter (what do 'the boys' parents' name have in common is: put the two together and what do you get? LacerAtemlacerate 'em. To lacerate is to cut or tear. Get it? Okay, so it was dumb logic, but what can you expect from a girl who has a conscious fear of guys in character suits? Oh, and did you get the name pun (Asunder)? Any ways, here's the next chapter. Poor Torn, his heart is broken! Luckily Kiera has a big ol' bottle o'glue!

Disclaimer: hahahahahahahaha!

So Sick

Chapter 5

Torn was having a very good dream. One that involved food, lot and lots of food. Tables filled to bowing with meats and fish and rice and pasta and vegetables. Cakes and puddings and pastries and...bacon? Why was he smelling bacon?

Slowly the long banquet tables piled high with delicacies faded and were replaced with the dark of his bedroom. The curtains were drawn and the soft comforter was slumped on the floor in a disarranged bundle. All was quiet and cool...but he could still smell bacon!

Torn opened his eyes groggily and turned to look at the digital clock. 7:07 am. Crap, he was late for work! He tried to get up, but he started to cough violently and had to sit at the edge of the bed until it subsided. He felt light-headed and took a few deep breaths to calm himself. He thought about the what his secretary would say when he came in and started coughing up a lung. He could hear her now: 'Now you' ve gone and gotten yourself sick! I swear, you need to get yourself a nice girl to take care of you!'

Then he remembered the deal he'd made with Kiera. Looks like he wouldn't be going to work any way. Dang, that sucked. He didn't like not working; miss one day and his troops got lazy and he'd get out of shape. Well, sorta. Okay, so he wouldn't lose tone and his men would rather try to pet a metal head than disobey him, but still! He liked his job, and who wouldn't? Get paid to control thousands of men and have access to every new weapon that comes into the city? Hey, most people would choose that over flipping burgers any day. And he'd rather be yelling himself hoarse than do what Kiera would undoubtable force him to do: go see a doctor.

Torn was by no means afraid of doctors, or needles, or surgery for that matter. He just found sitting in a waiting room for an hour just to have your temperature taken and pay $150 for it was a waste of time. If you'd been shot, he could understand. But for a cold? He definitely had better things to do. That and he wasn't overly fond of having to take his clothes off in front of some guy with a clip board. What was that guy writing down any ways? Was he a total perv? And why could he still smell bacon!

The question pertaining to fried meat irked him the most. It had to be his mind playing tricks on him. And, due to his hunger, he wouldn't be surprised. Maybe there was something eatable in the cupboards to hold him over until he could grab some real food.

Slowly, very slowly, he sat up and put his bare feet onto the plush onyx rug. He was still rather shaky and took a moment to catch some equilibrium before he began to walk (if you could call his stumbling and plodding walking) towards the door. He almost stopped to grab some clothes; all he had on was the pair of jeans he'd worn the previous day and a fallacious old tank. He figured he'd need a shower any ways, so he'd change then. Right then, he needed to get something in his system. Torn exited the room and made his way to the kitchen.

Now he was sure he wasn't hallucinating; there _was_ bacon! The closer he got, the stronger the scent became. He prayed it was the crispy pieces of heart attack and not the refrigerator on fire. The fact that bacon didn't fry itself hadn't dawned on him at this point.

Then he could hear someone's voice. It sounded like they were getting in a fight with the toaster. There was only one person he knew that would argue with a kitchen appliance. Well, he _did_ know more than one, but only one of them would be at his house at seven in the morning.

"Kiera, what _are_ you doing?" he asked, leaning on the door frame in mock casualness. Really, he was using it for support.

The girl being questioned jumped up and spun around from the counter, where she was trying to fix one very stubborn toaster.

"Way to scare me Torn! And I'll have you know I'm making you breakfast!" she told him, steadying herself on the counter top.

His face instantly brightened at the mention of food.

"So there was bacon? I'm not going crazy?"

"Well, I don't know about that..." she joked, but he was already at the food she'd prepared: bacon, sausage, eggs, fried potatoes, and, after she fixed the toaster, toast. She rolled her eyes and pulled out a carton of juice from the fridge. Suddenly he stopped eating and looked up at her from the circular cherry table.

"Wait, Kiera, where did you get all this food? Last time I checked, there wasn't anything in the fridge."

"Tell me about it," she said, pouring them both a glass of juice in two blown glass tumblers, "That thing was nasty! Seriously, I heard the mold _growl_ at me when I poked it with a spatula!"

"But where'd you get the food then?" he pestered.

"Duh, the grocery store! I went this morning before I came here, and let me tell you, no one shops at six am."

"You didn't have to you know," Torn said embarrassedly.

"Oh yes I did. What's the use of a clean kitchen if there's no food in it?"

She popped a home-fry into her mouth and pulled an egg onto the matching glass plate in front of her.

"Kiera, you didn't have to go shopping for me," he reiterated with guilt.

"I didn't. I just bought a few things to make us breakfast. We're going to buy you some real food after you go to the doctor's."

Torn had almost forgotten about his appointment.

"You know, I probably don't need to go see a doctor," he said carefully, "It's not like I don't know what's wrong with me."

Surprisingly, Kiera smiled at him.

"Don't tell me you're afraid of the doctor's," she asked with an eyebrow raised, "I never would have pinned you for a coward Torn."

It was a challenge.

"Of course I'm not afraid of the doctor's!" he protested.

"What other reason is there for you not to go?"

"It would be a total waste of time if I went," he countered, "Like I said before, we already know what's wrong with me."

She poured herself some more juice and looked at him scathingly.

"There could be some other problems you know. When you're over stressed, your immune system can get out of whack. I think it's a good idea for you to go any ways." she looked towards him for further argument.

Torn knew she was right; it wasn't a bad idea to see a doctor. Besides, it would make her happy. That was reason enough.

"Okay, I'll go. What time is my appointment any ways?"

She smiled The Smile, the one that made his stomach an Olympic gymnast. She pushed another egg onto his plate and happily responded, "9:30 am, so you'll have time to take a shower and other crap like that."

"Errr...," he started uneasily. He doubted she would leave just so he could take a shower. He did need one though.

"What?" she asked, "Afraid of water now?"

"No, I just, ah..."

When he started to blush, her eyes widened and she grinned, to his mind, in an evil way.

"Torn, are you afraid I'll walk in on you or something?"

Now he was really blushing. Just the thought of it...

"Of course not!"

"Then what's the matter?"

"Ummmm..."

When he didn't answer, she knew she'd been right all along; he didn't want her there when he was taking a shower. Precursors forbid she get a glance at his gun show! He _was_ shy; how cute! She could have a lot of fun with this!

Kiera put on a face of mock insult and said, "What kind of perv do you take me for Torn? Do you think I'll spy on you from the medicine cabinet?"

His eyes flew to hers in alarment.

"No! Of course not!"

She was laughing by now and couldn't stop. Torn pouted- you know, that thing he does when someone makes fun of him- and got up from his seat...and promptly fell back down. Which only served to make Kiera laugh harder and gasp at the same time. Still giggling, she got up to help him to his room.

They made it to the door and sat him on his bed, where he crossed his arms and glared at the ceiling fan. Seeing his reluctance to forgive her, Kiera sat down behind him and began to unroll his dreads.

"I'm sorry Torn, I know you don't like to be teased," she told him, holding back a grin trying to surface.

He didn't say anything, but he shifted a little and tensed up.

"But what can I say, you're so easy to poke fun at, I just can't help myself."

She leaned in closer, causing him to suck in air quickly. She smirked at his reaction; it was adorable. He still didn't respond, so she continued to talk.

"Wow, you've got really thick hair, Torn."

"Okay, okay," he said, lurching up clumsily, "I'll get a shower."

She grinned at her victories; he was blushing and finally relenting. Slowly, he walked over to the chest of drawers and made to grab the first thing he saw, but she stopped him.

"Check the closet. I hung up some clean clothes in there."

So he then attempted to grab the first thing he saw there, but she again interrupted.

"No, you can't wear that! Try _this_," she said, handing him a deep emerald sweater and a pair of old khakis, "These'll look great against your deep skin."

"Come on, I'm not going to a fashion show!" he said, but he secretly glowed from her praise.

She rolled her eyes and gently shoved him towards the bathroom door.

"There's clean towels on the towel rack and I opened up a new bar of _good_ soap. Take your time and don't worry," she smirked, "I promise I won't look."

He frowned and countered, "I never thought you would. What are you going to do any ways? I can give you my password if you want to log on my lap top."

"I need to finish vacuuming the living room and dusting. I swear, for a guy who's never here, you sure give off a lot of dust."

"Kiera," he told her, looking her sternly in the eye, "You _don't_ need to do all this. I should be cleaning myself and cooking too. I-"

She interrupted him for a third time that morning.

"Torn, don't argue or try to stop me. I care too much about you to be dissuaded from taking care of you, since you obviously can't do it yourself. Now go take your shower and tell me when you're done; I need to wash the dishes."

She offered no room for argument and turned on her heal out the door. Torn watched her leave with a small smile on his face. She cared about him. Just the thought made him feel ten times better. He walked into the bathroom and felt a surge of guilt; it was spotless. Kiera must have cleaned it while he was sleeping the day before, and she'd done a great job of it too. It even smelled like apples (how he didn't know). Turning on the shower, he locked the door, just to be safe. He trusted her, but still...

Meanwhile, Kiera wrestled with the vacuum she'd found in a closet in the main hall outside his flat. She'd fixed it earlier, but now she had to move it into the other room. She felt fidgety. How could she keep her mind on de-dirt-ifying the apartment when one of the hottest guys she'd ever met was in a few rooms over, _taking a shower_? That meant he'd have _no clothes on_! Admit it: you'd squirm too. Finally, she got the laggard machine moving.

As the vacuum ran and sucked up all the dirt it stumbled upon, she thought over the events of the last few days. As soon as Jinx had left, she'd gone into Mother Hen Mode. Meaning she bustled around the apartment, cleaning and fretting over Torn. Then, when he'd calmed down and slept normally, she took in her surroundings more fully. There was no homey-ness in the flat at all; no pictures, or knick-knacks, or any real remnants of inhabitants besides dirty dishes and unwashed clothes. Personally, she liked the old Underground better, with its maps and drawings and lived-in appearance. And she suspected Torn did too. She had, however, found one picture when she had poked around in his desk drawer, and she regretted it. The picture was of a young man, no older than eighteen, dressed in a blazing red uniform, standing tall and hansom, if but a little thin. Next to him was a curvy red-headed girl, near the same age, maybe a year or two older, smirking at him while he blushed and looked back endearingly. The picture was wrinkled from a person looking at it often and showed signs of being kept in a pocket. Torn had looked so happy. Had he known what the girl next to him would put him through, would he still love her like he did?

Kiera finished vacuuming and unplugged the cord from the outlet. She wished she'd never found the picture, for it reminded her of two facts: Torn had been so happy with Ashelin, and she had put him through so much pain. Had he felt like his life was over when he'd saw that kiss? Did Ashelin even care? She sighed and grabbed the duster from the chair it was sitting on. At least now Torn would stop abusing himself for something he didn't do. Hopefully.

"Ah, Kiera, I'm out now."

She jumped and tossed the duster into the air, where it landed in a certain commander's hand. Kiera turned towards him and said, "Sneak up on me why don't cha!" All annoyance melted away when she observed how he looked then. She'd been right about the sweater and khakis.

"Ooooh! I love your hair like that!"

"What, dripping and messy?" he said sarcastically. He found his hair extremely annoying; it was too curly and thick to just get shorn and forgotten, so he opted for the dreads.

"No! Well, not wet at least, but messy is hot!"

He blushed at the compliment as she pulled him into his room again and sat him on the bed once more. She ran into the bathroom and returned a moment later, comb and a dry towel in hand.

"Torn, I refuse to let you put your hair in dreads today."

"Hey!"

"No," she reiterated, gently combing a knot from his thick locks, "You won't pull it back. Today I want you to wear it long. I refuse to let you deny your attractibility its rights any longer."

"Wait, huh?"

"Do you use conditioner? Or is it naturally this soft?"

"Kiera," he stopped her blushing and confused, "I don't know about-"

"Don't argue and everything will be fine. Believe me, I know what I'm doing."

"Are you sure about that?" he asked, relenting his control over his life, if only for a day or two.

/an/

I like this chapter, it seemed so...fun. Okay, so it's not all that great, but it's kinda cute! I think. Maybe. Errr... R&R peeps!


	6. Thirteen Steps

Yay, track is finally over! Now I actually have time to do things (i.e.clean, not that I will), including update more often! I hope. I'd like to take a moment to tell Namek Kaia to write her butt off! Seriously, if by some miracle you actually like this story everyone, check out 'Darker by the Day'! Or In the Dark.

Disclaimer: Think about it: me own ND?

So Sick

Chapter 6

Ashelin blinked up at the heckled looking man before her. She sat at the desk in her HQ office, looking over some documents for a new parking law and waiting for Jak to bring her her morning latte and for Torn to ramble off the morning report. She pushed aside the files and turned her full attention towards the man's pockmarked face. She was having trouble grasping what he'd just said.

"What do you mean, 'Commander Asunder isn't present today'?"

"Well ma'am," the man said in an ornery manner, "A friend called in and said he had obligations to attend to in Spargus."

"A friend? Who?"

Who would call in for Torn? Who would he _let_ call in for him?

"I believe it was a Miss Hagai. Is that name familiar to you ma'am?" he asked without conviction.

The governess narrowed her eyes suspiciously. Why would that little air head call in for Torn? She stood up and addressed the man in front of her.

"Officer McKoy, did she mention what it was for?"

He looked unmoved by her obvious vexation.

"No ma'am, but I would assume it had to do with his personal life the way his secretary said the young lady talked."

Ashelin was even more suspicious now.

'Torn doesn't _have_ a personal life,' she thought, '_I'm _his personal life! I don't trust that mechanic. First she tries to win back my Jak, now she's turned her big, and ugly, green eyes on Torn!'

"I'm going to go check on the commander's quarters," she told the man, pulling on an expensive looking leather jacket and walking over to the door, "I shouldn't be long. If he comes, tell Jak to put my latte on my desk and I'll see him later."

She closed the door and left the older man frowning and mumbling.

/tk/

Torn blinked up at the building, frowning and trying to ignore the feeling of dread surfacing. The Hadfield-Everatte Memorial Medical Practice was a small, three-story brick building, covered in vines and brass fixtures. A plaque commemorating the two founders was mounted on a rickety park bench sitting near the entrance. It was a pleasant looking and shaded in the shadow of a large oak tree. Why was he so nervous at the sight of this amiable little building? Was it the fear of what was to come? A premonition of his diagnosis? The scent of rubbing alcohol and rubber gloves?

"Right on time."

He looked down and saw Kiera pocketing the keys to her zoomer (she refused to let him drive).

"Oh joy," he said sarcastically, holding the door open for her, "I was afraid we'd be late."

"Oh lighten up! It's just the doctor's, it can't be that bad. Haven't you been here before?" she asked walking through the open doorway.

"Yeah, once, for a physical."

"Did you like the doctor?"

"He was okay. Wasn't too fond of the way he said 'Say awww', but what can you do?"

She grinned at the sarcasm laced in his voice.

"Then call me clueless, but I don't see why you detest this place."

Torn shrugged and impatiently shoved the sepia waves away from his light blue eyes. He'd yielded to Kiera's wishes and let his hair free of its normal dreads. Which made him feel like he was fifteen again. Now his hair was constantly in his eyes an it was annoying him, big time.

As they entered the elevator taking them to the second floor, Kiera took notice of his dilemma and grinned.

"Torn, I love your hair like that," she said, leaning up to run her fingers through it, "Seriously, why don't you wear it down more often?"

He blushed and tried to shake her off. Stuttering, he merely shrugged and answered, "It gets in my eyes."

She, in turn, rolled her eyes and stepped back, much to his relief and equal dismay.

"Speaking of hair," she said, finger combing her own emerald locks, "I was thinking of getting a new hair style. Maybe some highlights?" She looked at him, asking for his opinion on the matter.

"Why would you want to color your hair? It's fine the way it is," he said with some alarm. She couldn't dye her hair! It made her her.

"Yeah, it's okay I guess, but I want a new look. I've had this cut since I was nine. Nothing too major, just a few layers I'm thinking. Hopefully it won't look ugly."

"Well," he told her quietly, "I think it would be impossible to look ugly, no matter what it was cut like."

The elevator, which had been going unusually slow that day, came to a stop on the second floor. Torn charged out of it before Kiera could fully get his meaning. When comprehension dawned on her, her lips curved up slightly and her cheeks turned a light salmon shade. Had he just called her beautiful? Or was he being nice? She prayed for the former.

Torn had already opened the door to the waiting room when she caught up with him. Inside were a few women sitting around gossiping and tittering about their _wonderful_ husbands and the _lovely_ floral arrangements they'd made last Tuesday. All eyes turned towards the latest occupants of the room. Well, one of them at least. Kiera had been right about the sweater.

She motioned with her chin for him to have a seat while she checked him in. He glanced wearily at the women seated in the corner and optioned for an uncomfortable orange plastic chair on the other side of the room, much to the ladies' dismay. Next to him were a few piles of magazines. His eyes glazed over the covers and read the titles: Hearth, Nutrifit Weekly, TV Guide, Techee. Nothing that interested him. One, however, did catch his eye. It was an old newspaper from about a week earlier when the governess had given a speech at the opening of the new Digi-dome, a massive computer lab in East Haven. He frowned and looked away. The picture on the cover featured Ashelin shaking hands with a group of nerdy guys in uncomfortable looking suits. She looked beautiful as always.

He could have sworn she'd been in one of his dreams he'd had after he'd passed out. He couldn't remember any of the details, but he wasn't getting good vibes whenever he thought of it. In fact, he wasn't feeling too great at the moment. His head was throbbing dully and his hair was still obscuring his vision. Not to mention he was hungry again and someone was looking at him.

"You're next."

Torn looked up to find Kiera seating herself next to him and setting her purse down beside the table. He glanced back down at the newspaper and back up at Kiera; there was no comparison. He sighed and rubbed his throbbing temples. He heard her stifle a giggle beside him and looked up to find her biting her thumb nail and looking amused and slightly annoyed at the same time. He quirked a brow and stared at her pointedly. She looked back at him and leaned forward with a smile.

"It would seem as though you've gotten yourself quite a fan club," she said quietly, glancing behind him.

"Huh?" he said in his usual intelligent manner. He did _not_ know what she was talking about.

"Forget about it," she told him with a smirk and an eyeroll.

"No really, what do you mean?" he persisted naively.

She looked at him incredulously. Did he really not know he was the apogee of ruggedness? Or was he just acting infuriatingly modest? She just shook her head and searched her pockets for some gum.

Torn was highly confused and would have demanded she explain her meaning, had she not bent over to grab something from her purse. He was not a perv. He was just conveniently sitting next to her when her shirt rode up a little bit, revealing her very pale, smooth back to some extent. He couldn't control The Voice! Kiera, before his mind could get out of hand, popped back up, a pack of cinnamon gum in hand. She grabbed a piece and offered one to him, which he took gratefully with a hoarse "Thanks".

She nearly sighed out loud.Kiera really loved it when he talked, especially when it was in short, husky phrases.

'Note to self: remember to have gum handy at all times.'

"A Mr. Asunder," the woman at the desk called.

Torn stood up, with one last glance at the girl next to him, and walked over towards her. She smiled and pointed at a door to her right then said, "Down the hall, fourth door on the right."

He nodded and opened the door like a man walking to the gallows. He did not like the doctor's.

/j/

Jak winded his way through the people milling about the crowded hallway, a large Styrofoam cup of steaming latte grasped precariously in his hand. Daxter was perched atop his spot on the blonde man's shoulder, yelling out insults at those who bumped into them. Jak was looking exceptionally hansom today, his hair laying appealingly on his forehead and his face clean-shaven. The ladies noticed this and were pleased; the head commander hadn't been in his office today and they had been ultimately distressed at the lack of man flesh that morning since Jak had been late. The governess' boyfriend's new look, however, almost made up for that. Almost.

Jak stopped in front of Ashelin's office and sighed in relief; the coffee hadn't spilled. Ever since he surprised her with a latte one morning, Ashelin had been expecting to get it everyday and tended to get bitchy if she didn't. Hopefully it wasn't cold, she'd have a cow if it was. Cautiously, he opened up the door and peeked inside to find...nothing.

He sighed disgruntledly and looked up at Daxter, who in turn rolled his eyes. They walked inside and shut the door behind them. Daxter hopped off his perch and ran over to the desk, scurrying up it clumsily. Jak set the latte down on the coffee table by the window. It was _not_ his fault if it was cold.

While Daxter went through all her drawers and played around on her computer, Jak glanced around the office, grimacing. He never did like this office. Every time he went in there, it reminded him of what had happen a few weeks earlier. And every time he was reminded of that, he got physically ill. He looked out the window, down at the people walking by HQ. If they knew what he did, would they call him their hero anymore? They'd already banished him once, why not again? At least now they'd have a good reason. He turned away from the window and sat down on the black leather armchair next to the coffee table.

He felt so guilty, the kind of guilt you don't feel until you're all alone and it's quiet. He felt regretful, too. She didn't hate him. How could she _not_ though? He'd been a down right ass to her and yet she treated him just fine, not begrudging in the least. Then again, Kiera didn't know what he'd done that was causing him the most guilt; she only knew half the story. Hopefully, she'd never find out, because he preferred her friendship over her repulsion.

Then there was the matter of her new friendship. How could he not be jealous of Torn? He was her new "guy friend", the one he'd been back in Sandover. He should have been glad she'd moved on, away from his unworthy ass, but, come on, she was his first love!

Jak sighed again and looked over to his small friend.

"Dax, don't blow up Haven, okay? I don't think Ashelin would be too happy if we had to rebuild a third time."

"I'd sure love to see her face though," the ottsel responded shiftily, "Speaking of the well-endowed governess, where is she? Normally she's in here criticizing the coffee by now and telling us what needs done." he scratched his ears with his foot and looked back at his best friend. It was obvious he was having a lot of confusing thoughts and tried to make him see the humor in their situation. He knew Jak was regretting what he'd done to Kiera; how could he not? They'd been friends since they were kids and he'd sorta shaken things up. Daxter even put a little of the blame on himself. After all, he'd encouraged Jak wherever Ashelin was concerned when they were in Spargus and once even pointed out that Kiera hadn't tried to contact him at all. Then, when he put some thought into it, he realized she _couldn't_ contact them. How could she have? It wasn't like Spargus had any connections to Haven, outside of a few undercover wastelanders. Daxter had been wrong and, what was more, he admitted it.

"I don't know where she is," Jak replied, looking at the clock over the door, "Maybe I'll ask that guy, what's his name, where she went."

He stepped out of the office and walked to the room next door. The name plate said "Off. J.N. McKoy" and Jak had to knock four times before a grouchy looking man made his presence known. The man looked him up and down once, frowning. Then again, maybe he wasn't frowning; that seemed to be the only expression he could make. He didn't say anything, just stared at Jak as if to say, "Yeah, what do you want?" Jak cleared his throat.

"Ah, hey. I was wondering were the governess is at. She's not in her office like she normally is and-"

The older man cut him off.

"The governess left to go see where the head commander had gone off to. She told me to tell you to leave the coffee on her desk and that she would see you later."

The man shut the door and left Jak wondering what the heck he was talking about. Did he mean Torn? What did he mean by "gone off to"? He and Daxter exchanged looks. They knew one person who would have the answer.

"Hey Lynn, what's shaken?"

The middle-aged woman looked up to find a bright orange ottsel standing on her desk. She smiled and saw behind him that Jak was with him as well. Jak was a nice guy and always gave her a nod when he went in to see her boss.

"Hello boys. I'm fine thank you. But I'm afraid Torn isn't here today," she said with some trace of uneasiness in her voice.

"Yeah, that's what we thought. Do you know where he is?"

The secretary looked around to check for eavesdroppers.

"Well, a friend called in and said he had personal business to attend to in Spargus. I'm hoping this means he's taken a bit of a break, if only for a few days. The poor guy, always overworking himself! I hope that girl of his is taking care of him."

Daxter looked surprised.

"What girl? Are you saying Torn, Mr. Tough Guy Rebel, has a girlfriend?"

He began to laugh, but was silenced by a look from Lynn, who then smiled slyly.

"No, I don't think he does _officially_, but the girl who called in made it sound like she would be with him. And," she whispered, motioning the two of them closer, "He's been leaving work for a few hours and then coming back later. I think wherever he goes, this girl's there too."

She was smiling now and it was obvious why: her boss was tough, but still a super sweet guy. It was only fitting he would get a nice girl to take care of him. That and he was such a good-looking man, it wasn't right for him to not be dating. Why, if only she were twenty years younger...

Daxter and Jak stared at her, then at each other. There was something odd in this picture...

/tk/

"Commander, is it all right if I allow your companion to come in now?" an old, weathered man with a pensive face asked Torn, "She seems to be rather worried and now that the examination is over, I would like to discuss my diagnosis."

Torn pushed his hair back nervously and looked towards the sheet attached to the man's clipboard. Did he really want Kiera to see what was on it? On one hand, she had been immensely helpful and she did tend to worry about him. He owed it to her to let her know what was wrong with him. On the other hand, did he honestly want her to worry more? What if there was something personal on that paper? He would throw himself off of the palace if Dr. Everatte mentioned anything about his reproductive health. Seriously, he had the key to the roof! He looked back towards the doctor waiting for his answer.

"Sure, let her in."

The man smiled.

"Ah, a good choice. I saw her pacing out there, she's nearly rubbed a path in the carpet!"

He chuckled and went to fetch Kiera.

Torn stared at his retreating back and sighed. What a visit this had been. He did like the doctor, however. He was a nice guy and didn't creep him out too bad with that clipboard. Torn just wished he'd told him more about his health. It seemed the doctor wanted to save everything for one big report on his health until the end. It was obviously his idea of a sick joke. Heheh, that was sorta funny, 'sick joke'. Get it?

Torn shook these irrelevant thoughts from his head when a mess of green hair appeared in the doorway. He would kiss Daxter if he made it out of here without being embarrassed.

Kiera took a seat in a chair the doctor motioned to and looked at him attentively. The doctor pulled over a rolling computer chair and made himself comfortable. He sat back and surveyed the two over his glasses, watching them like a great uncle would his favorite nephew and niece. Finally, he leaned up and grabbed the clipboard off the table.

"Well I must say Torn, you've really screwed your system up this time," he said in a manner suggesting they were discussing a ball game. Then, noticing their worried expressions, continued.

"Don't worry though, nothing time, rest, and a good amount of food won't cure. But I warn you Torn," he said, much more serious now, "if you continue to keep up this maniac working schedule, there will be permanent damage. I know it's hard to be consumed by your work and to pull away from it, but hear me out, for the sake of those that care about you, you must get health," he looked into Torn's blue eyes with his own striking hazel. His gaze was so intense Torn actually looked away first. Torn just nodded numbly. The doctor took this as a positive answer and smiled again.

"Now, what you need my boy is a small vacation and _a lot_ of food. Your comprehensive report from your last physical showed you have a skyrocketed metabolism. I suggest you eat about five servings of protein, eight servings of carbohydrates, at least, and as many fruits and vegetables that you want. You need to get back at a healthy weight. My dear, Kiera was it? I'm putting you in charge of harping on this guy about his health," he smiled indulgently at the girl, "I'm sure you've already been doing that though."

Kiera smiled and pushed her bangs behind her ears. She really liked this guy, a lot.

"That's all I can really suggest at this point. Take a week off and relax a little," he stood up and motioned for the two of them to follow, "Betty will take care of the expenses, as you know. One of the many benefits of being a commander, eh? Free healthcare!" he laughed and shook his head, marching out of the door with Torn and Kiera preceding him.

Kiera glanced at Torn to find him avoiding her gaze. They stepped back into the stuffy waiting room where the women still sat chatting for some reason. Kiera smiled at the receptionist, who smiled back and called out as they left, "Have a good day you two, and keep healthy!"

After the door was shut, Torn took a cautious glance at Kiera. He wasn't sure how she would view this; would she think it was bothersome and was only helping him so she could sleep at night? Would she go all psyco and start force feeding him butter by the pound? Would she ever stop digging in her purse?

She pulled out a fresh piece of gum and folded it into her mouth.

"Well, do you want to go get lunch now, or go to the grocery store then cook at your place?" she asked him

"Uhh, aren't you-aren't you going to barite me and tell me how stupid I am for being stupid?" he replied somewhat hesitantly.

"What do you mean? It's not your fault you got like this. Well, it is, but you didn't do it entirely yourself. Besides, I'm proud of you."

"Proud of me?" he now questioned, stepping into the elevator behind her, "For what? Nearly emaciating myself?"

"No, for admitting you did have a problem and then doing something about it!" she said with her hands thrown up like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Now you're sounding like a shrink. Is this plan twelve steps, or did you cut a few out?"

"Shut up Torn," she said laughing against her will, "You need to take a thirteenth step: away from the sarcasm."

Even he had to grin at that one.

They continued out to the parking lot to fetch Kiera's zoomer. It was decided that they would go to the store and eat at Torn's.

"Which store do you like?"

"I don't care."

"Would you rather I take you to an organic health food store? Cause I could arrange that."

"Hey, I wouldn't mind that. I bet I could get a pair of Berkenstocks there. I always wanted a pair of mandels.

Kiera almost smacked them into a fire hydrant from laughing so hard.

"Okay," she said, calming down, "to the-hehe-health food store it is."

/an/

jeez, that took forever to update! Stupid finals! The good news is school is officially out for the summer so I will be able to write more than once a fortnight.


	7. The Moment You've All Been Waiting For

So far, this summer break had been rather boring. A week before we were let out, it was in the eighties and sunny. Now it's 64 degrees and raining on and off. This happens every year, I shouldn't be surprised. Oh, by the way, "mandals" are 'man-sandals', just in case you didn't get that from last chapter!

Disclaimer: I don't own the J&D universe, so get over it. I think next chapter I'm gonna be a rebel and forget to put this here.

So Sick

Chapter 7

Jealousy, Turning things into the sea

Ashelin glared at the door and retyped the code in the panel for the third time. There was obviously some mistake. Her password would be accepted _here_ of all places. It had to be! Unless someone specifically changed the access number, she would be able to get inside the apartment in question. And she knew no one had changed the access number.

She gave a frustrated growl and kicked an innocent potted plant that just happened to be sitting in the middle of the hallway of the Compound. There was no chance of her misentering the numbers now; her code was no good. Her blood pressure was rising rapidly and her face flushed ominously. She was confused as well. Why would Torn deny her access into his flat? He'd always let her in before, in fact, he was the one who had given her it! He was obviously pissed off at her about something, probably her and Jak's relationship. Yeah, he couldn't get over her and was punishing her for it. Honestly, did he think she'd be around forever? Sure, she really liked the guy, and he was always sweet and kind...and faithful and loyal... Well, maybe she was being a little harsh. She was starting to think she should've let him go a bit more delicately.

If she were completely honest with herself, she would admit that she had been a capital B bitch. But she never dwelled on this kind of stuff; she couldn't take it back no matter how much she wished it were different. Now the only thing she could do was treat Torn a little better...and get into that apartment!

With one more look at the code panel, she marched down the hall towards the elevator. There was a cyber café across the street. She could get a little work done while she waited for him to come back. Which he would. He wouldn't take a day off of work voluntary. Someone was involved.

/tk/

"I still don't see the difference between a cinnamon roll and a sweet roll," said Kiera amusedly as she chopped up an onion and threw it into the skillet. Why was she having this conversation...

"The difference is obvious Kiera," Torn responded passionately, pointing a spatula at her, "A cinnamon roll should contain way more cinnamon than a sweet roll! I'm telling you, those are imposture cinnamon rolls!"

"I get that part, but the frostings are exactly the same!" she said, gaining as much heat behind her argument as he had, "And the frosting totally overpowers the taste of the cinnamon so how can you tell? Maybe there really is a lot of spice in them but all you can comprehend is the sugary butter cream icing."

"No, I have a very acute sense of taste. I can tell: those are sweet rolls."

At this, they both looked at each other and synonymously started to crack up.

"Um," Kiera asked, still not able to form a coherent sentence, "Why are we arguing about this again?"

"Because those things are not cinnamon rolls," Torn said grinning and straightening up, "That's false advertising. They could get a fine for that."

Kiera started to chop up tomatoes and add those into the skillet too.

"What would you do, charge in there and put them in hand cuffs?"

"No, I'd make one of the new recruits do it. We do stuff like that sometimes, like entering into a frat. Once, I had this guy get his nipple pierced and-"

"No, no," she replied laughing, "I don't want to know. Oh, and do you like olive oil or vegetable?"

"Olive. Is that okay?"

"Sure, I like it better too."

They were making lunch at his apartment, a stirfry with fresh baked bread, and arguing about baked goods. They'd gone to the store and came back with a zoomer full of food, including a box of "cinnamon rolls" that didn't have, according to Torn, the right amount of spice in them to be adequately named. It was really a dumb and pointless argument in the eyes of a spectator and was a hidden session of flirting.

As they continued to cook, they chatted about what Kiera had done to the new transporters around the city. They were almost completely done in the newer parts of the city, and coming along nicely in the more slummy parts. The "Slums" were a lot less broken now and the poverty rates in the city were definitely improving. But, still, many people were living in poor conditions.

The smell of vegetables and meat perforated throughout the apartment, creating a warm atmosphere and, above all else, making Torn extremely hungry.

"Can we eat yet?" he asked impatiently, not unlike a toddler in a car seat.

Kiera rolled her eyes and pointed towards the table.

"No, the meat is still not quite done. But, you can slice some bread and set the table you know."

"Okay," he responded without enthusiasm, digging out a large, serrated knife from the block on the counter and slicing the crusty wheat bread into thick pieces. Kiera got out a pitcher of iced tea she'd made that morning and poured them both tall glasses. Soon the food was done and they sat down to a nice lunch.

After they ate, Kiera pulled out a half gallon of dark chocolate-strawberry ice cream and scooped them both out a bowl full. While they devoured the wonderful concoction, Torn asked her something that had been bothering him since he had woken up that morning.

"Kiera, um, did you, uh, clean my _whole_ apartment?"

She looked up at him thoughtfully.

"No, I don't think I got everywhere. I was going to tackle the closet by the door-you know, the one where you throw all your crap you don't know what to do with- but I hadn't got to it yet. But, yeah, I cleaned up a bit, but _only _where it was really needed. I didn't mess with any of your personal stuff."

"Ah, Kiera," he said ashamedly, "You didn't need to do all that. Seriously!"

"Don't worry 'bout it. What else was I supposed to do, leave you here to rot, along with what ever was left in that icky fridge? Besides, I like to clean, for the most part. It's very relaxing."

She looked resolute, so he had no other choice; she wouldn't hear anything else.

"Kiera, I really appreciate it," he said, looking her straight in the eyes, causing her to be trapped in his azure gaze, "You've been really great to me, something I probably don't deserve. If there's any way I can make it up to you..." he trailed off, both of them staring into each other's eyes. Slowly, her lips curled up into a devious smile, a clear omen he didn't pick up on.

"Well, there is one thing you could do to make up for it," she said with her eyes glinting mischievously.

"N-n-name it," he stuttered.

"Well, you see, there's this thing, two nights from now, at this place, a couple blocks from here. I was invited to go, but it says I have to bring a guest. Normally, I'd bring my dad, but he's going to be out of town then, which means I need someone to go with me. I noticed you had a tux in you closet when I was hanging your clothes away," she said, casually getting up and heading out into the living room, Torn following behind, "And it just so happens it's a very formal affair. And it also happens that you're supposed to go any ways."

She sat down on the sofa and crossed her legs, looking up at him with a smile. He sat down near her as well.

"So, let me got this straight: you need to bring a guest, you don't have one, I have a tux, and I have to go any ways. Does that mean you want me to take you?"

She nodded and folded her hands in her lap.

"Well, sure, why not? You've forced me to not work for a week so I'll have nothing better to do, and I owe you one. So, yes, I'd be happy to go with you," he finished with a small smile.

She grinned and leaned back into the couch.

"Cool. Now, I also need you opinion: blue or red?"

"Uh, for what?"

"Blue or red?"she repeated.

"Well, uh, red then."

"'Kay. That was my first choice too."

"For what?"

"You'll see!"

He shook his head and stood up, intent on starting the dishes they'd used for lunch. She stood up as well and smiled at him. He smiled back. Both's smiles soon faded as they looked at each other. She stepped closer, he stayed where he was. He bent down, she leaned up. They were really close...

Soon they had fallen on the couch and were seemingly glued together by the face. Kiera had her fingers tangled in his hair and his hands were holding her shoulders gently. And they would've continued, had they not been most rudely interrupted.

"Torn you moron, I know you're in there! Get the hell out here and let me in!"

Torn and Kiera reluctantly sprang apart and looked towards the door at the unwanted intrusion. Without thinking, Torn glanced at Kiera in a silent plea for help. He did _not _want to face the woman he knew was at that door, but if he didn't, she'd definitely shoot down the door and charge in. Then that would make him seem guiltier than he was. The only solution was to act sick and have Kiera face Ashelin's wrath, something she was more adept to do at the moment.

Kiera, understanding his meaning, got up and headed over to the door while he snuck into his bedroom to hide. Gingerly, she answered the door. Immediately a livid Ashelin assaulted her vision. Upon seeing her, the governess' eyes narrowed with suspicion.

"Kiera, what the hell are you doing here?" she demanded without preface.

"I could be asking you the same question," Kiera answered cooly.

Ashelin grit her teeth. "**I** have a solid reason for being here; not only is Torn one of my employees, so to speak, but he is my friend. What reason you have for bringing your sorry ass here beats me."

Kiera's green eyes darkened dangerously at her.

"Well, as it just so happens, Torn is also my friend and he's sick. And any _real_ friend would've realized he wasn't healthy and came to his aid sooner, not _after_ he passed out!"

"Are you saying I don't care about Torn?" Ashelin nearly screeched.

"No, what I'm saying is you're to busy getting plastic surgery and STD's to notice his obvious state of health!"

"You bitch! You're just sniffing around Torn because no respectable man would date you and he's too nice to tell you to piss off! Face it, Jak saw right through your little charade of being all innocent and discovered you for what you really were: A skanky little whore!"

With a feral growl, Kiera jumped on top of Ashelin, knocking them both to the floor. Both women began to claw, scratch, bite, tear, and punch each other. Many of the other residents of the compound who had heard the yelling, came out to investigate and found a full blown cat fight in affect. Many of the guys ran back into their flats to grab cameras; it wasn't everyday their boss and the hot chick that fixed their zoomers got into it. Even Torn came out of his safe hole to check it out.

After a minute or so of generally harmless fighting (if you don't count the many bruises and scratches they'd have in the morning), Kiera pulled back and, with all the strength found in her skinny arms, balled up her fist and hit Ashelin square in the jaw. Then she stood up quickly and ran down the hall to the stair case where she could make a fast getaway. She showed her brain in that move; Ashelin, holding her cheek and near tears (or as close as she can get to tears any way), flew up after a moment and pulled out her pistol with the intent of going after her. And she would've too if Torn hadn't stopped her.

"Ashelin, uh, look, you need to um, calm down." he said, carefully taking hold of her shoulders and pushing her hand so it pointed to the ground.

She looked at him and was about to let loose on him, when she noticed his hair was out of its rows and messed up and he was, in fact, quite pale. Maybe that, that...woman wasn't lying about him being sick.

"Torn, what was that bitch doing here! She was going on about how you were 'sick'. Is it true?" she practically yelled.

"Uh, well, I _did_ go to the doctor today," he said cautiously.

"What? Why didn't you tell me? I could've taken you! Why would you let _her_ take you?"

Torn was getting slightly annoyed now. First, she blows him off for some guy with an orange rat on his shoulder, then she rubs it in his face. She barges in on him just as he was about to get some and gets into a major fight with the one person who seems to give a damn whether or not he lived or died. Now she was bossing him around and accusing him of things? Uh uh, that wasn't how it worked.

"Look, Ashelin. I've had no sleep for the past three weeks. I just had my first meal in that same time frame this morning, and had to endure shopping at a very packed bazaar. You've just threatened Kiera, who has done more for me in the past few days than you have all this month, and now you're annoying the crap out of me. So I want you to get out of my sight and leave me alone."

He slammed the door, in her face even, leaving her stunned into silence outside his apartment.

/k/

Kiera pulled into the alley near the old racing district, her heart pounding and near laughing. She was having trouble comprehending what she'd just done. Not only had she just got into a fight with Ashelin, but she'd just totally made out with Torn. The thought alone made her giddy. Precursors, he was a good kisser! A goofy smile made its way onto her face as she began to day dream about what could've happened if they hadn't been interrupted.

/an/

okay, so it was a little short, I know. But I did finally give you guys what you wanted and made them kiss. And I even threw in a little cat fight action! Later y'all!


	8. Lady in Red

Ooopsy, I'm not doing a very good job of updating, am I? Sorry about that!

Disclaimer: yeah right

So Sick

Chapter 8

Lady in Red

The bespectacled girl looked up from the catalogue she was perusing to the ringing bell on the door. Another girl, maybe a year or two younger than herself, with bright green hair, walked into the air-conditioned Caelum Aestas. Posters of various dresses lined the walls and racks of clothing littered the green carpet floor. The girl that just entered the store looked around to the girl behind the counter and smiled politely.

"Hi, I'm Launah, can I help you today?" the girl asked, getting up from behind the register and walking out to meet the new customer.

"Um, yeah actually, you can. See, I have this formal event coming up and I need a dress."

"Well, you came to the right place! Any particular style your looking for?"

"Do you have anything in red?" the girl asked.

Launah tapped her deep lilac lips with her index finger and squinted at the wall.

"Well, there is this _one_ dress I think would be perfect with you skin...yeah. Follow me."

Kiera complied and walked behind her towards the back of the store to a rack of dresses. A sign that said _Modern and Contemporary_ hung overhead. Launah shuffled through the selection and finally pulled out what appeared to be a dyed potato sack.

"Um..." was all Kiera said.

"No?"

"The colour? Yes. The cut? No."

"Hmm, yeah, you're right; not enough something."

"How about something more classic? You know, less trendy."

"Ah, I know what you mean. Over hear."

She beckoned Kiera over to a rack of dresses labeled _Elegant_. More shuffling and she popped out with a nice ruby toned dress in a more amiable cut. Kiera, however, was not impressed. After shaking her head, she walked over to the rack and searched through the various gowns and pulled out another dress the same colour.

"Oooh, you're right," the salesgirl cooed, carelessly shoving the other dress back on the rack, "that one is _perfect_! Oh, but is it in you size?"

"I don't know, where's the label?" Kiera responded, checking the collar of the dress for said label.

"Actually, we don't have any on the dresses; it'd ruin the fabric. Instead we stitch the size into the hem on the bottom," she said, looking at the bottom of the skirt for it, "Aha! A small. I think it will work," she said, looking Kiera up and down and nodding, "why don't you try it on though? The dressing rooms are over in the corner."

She left to go help another customer, leaving Kiera to fit the gown. Inside the stall, she pulled her other clothes off and, as gently as if it would tear effortlessly, she slid the dress over her body. She zipped it up, almost contorting her arm the whole way around in the process, and stepped back to look at herself in the mirror. She smiled and turned around a few times. Looks like she'd found a dress.

/t/

"Now Ash, you can't have her removed from the guest list. She fixed up the whole city's transport system; she has a right to be there too."

"No Jak!" one very acrimonious red head screeched, nearly dropping the sack of ice she held up to her bruised and slightly swollen cheek bone, "I will NOT have her at that party! Here and her father can stay home and rot for all I care! Sh–"

"Wait, why are you bringing Samos into this?" Jak interrupted, his brows knit together in confusion.

"Duh stupid! She always brings him to all these events she has to go to!" Ashelin said, rolling her eyes.

"Look, Ashelin: you can't uninvite Kiera to the benefit," Jak continued with a tinge of annoyance at being addressed like he'd been, "She'd know exactly why you did it and would, uh, gloat over it. Yeah. So you see, by keeping her on the list you're really winning the battle of wits. Or whatever you call it."

Ashelin turned from the mirror where she'd been inspecting her face meticulously, mourning the loss of perfection, in her opinion, and faced her blonde boyfriend lounging on the divan. She had to admire the picture they made; he was so handsome and she was gorgeous- a perfect match. She smiled at him and sauntered over to him, making sure her hips were going full swing.

"Maybe you're right Babe," she said with a practiced drawl of seductivity, "I think I'll let her come after all. Besides, she won't have a _real_ date; it'll be a laugh. But right now, let's just concentrate on the problem at hand."

"And that is?" Jak said, smirking at her and raising an emerald brow.

"You and I still have our clothes on," Ashelin said, pouncing onto her boyfriend with the intent to correct this error.

/t/

Torn walked into the kitchen and over to the fridge. Okay, so yeah, he'd just eaten a whole box of these addicting little snack crackers and two huge sports drinks, but his stomach still felt a little bit empty. After all, everyone was telling him he needed to gain weight, why not take advantage of it?

He wrenched open the sleek silver doors to both the fridge and freezer side, and assessed his options. There was the leftover gallon of icecream, a box of popsicles- sugar free of course ("Do you really want to be bouncing around your apartment because of a sugar rush?"), some cups of yogurt, and a bunch of fresh fruit. Torn's eyes darted between the icecream and the fruit. The icecream would taste great, but he didn't _really_ need it. But how was he supposed to gain weight if he ate like a rabbog? His hand went towards the icecream. Then again, if he ate like Krew, he might gain _too_ much weight and get out of shape...

He shut the door to the freezer and grabbed two apples, a grapefruit, and some peaches from the bottom drawer. He grabbed a bunch of bananas on the counter too as he walked back into his bedroom. All around him the house showed signs of the occupant being very bored: Overly clean sinks, spotless windows, brand new light bulbs. There was even a level lying on the bed from his measuring the flatness of its covers. Yeah, he was going crazy.

Torn lay the produce on the mahogany desk parallel to his bed and sat down in the executive chair, its cool, buttery leather feeling too frigid for his bare back. Hunching over away from the back, he booted up his laptop that he'd had sent over to him from his office at HQ. Okay, so technically that was cheating, he wasn't supposed to be working, but it wasn't _really_ work. More like all the things he'd neglected to do for about a month, i.e. check his email. Which he was doing. For three hours now. Really, why did people have to send him so much stuff? Like hair loss solutions. He had _too much_ hair, he didn't need to get any more!

After deleting three such emails, he started on the fruit. He had other problems to deal with besides his follicles lacking or not lacking DHT; he'd promised Kiera he'd go to that dinner thing. Okay, so she'd generously paid him back for that (he still grinned like an imbecile whenever he thought about it) and she'd been right, he did have a tux, but he didn't really like the shoes that went with it. And, it was a dinner and dancing event, as he'd found out when he'd read the e-vite sent to him two weeks earlier, another reason he was dreading the event. I'm sure you've already learned of his apprehensions concerning the fine art of dancing, as we address it rather often. Well, it wasn't just hip-hop he shied away from, it was all types. Ballroom, jazz, mime, interpretive, you name it. And he sucked at them all.

The currently de-dreaded commander stood up and walked back out into the kitchen to throw away the cores and peels of the bushel of fruit he'd just inhaled. He'd decided to let his hair do its own thing for the time being. He secretly had to admit it felt pretty good to let his locks move freely. His icy orbs again darted towards the freezer. It couldn't really hurt if he just had a little bowl of icecream, could it?

When Torn ventured back out into the kitchen to throw away the empty carton a quarter hour later, he still hadn't solved the problem about the shoes. They were so uncomfortably tight he could barely walk. And since he was on house arrest, he couldn't just go to the shoe store and buy a pair either. He walked into his bedroom and over to the closet. It wasn't like he had a whole bunch of shoes. A pair of old trainers, the almost-brand-new black dress shoes (way too shiny to be safe), and his combat boots. Hey...

/k/

"Make me look different."

"Different? How different?"

"Not _too_ different," Kiera answered from the plushy spiral chair she was sitting in to the woman standing behind her wielding shiny scissors, "Maybe some layering or colouring or something."

The tall, almond-eyed woman tapped her temple with the base of her shears and studied Kiera's head.

"I'm thinking shorter. You've got the most perfect bone structure for short hair. It'll be a change, but nothing too drastic."

"Okay, sounds good. I'm putting my head in your hands. Make me look good Sen!"

Both women laughed as Sen lead Kiera over to the sink to wash her hair.

As Kiera had her scalp scrubbed, she chatted about different stuff with the hairdresser. She also casually asked about getting a new colour.

"I honestly don't understand why you'd want to lose this colour," Sen said, fingering Kiera's hair gently with her bejeweled fingers, "I have clients spending the salary of a small country every week for a shade not half as brilliant."

"I don't want a totally different colour, but I would like something to break it up a little," Kiera pointed out.

"But your hair is different greens and blues already."

"Come on, just a few streaks of a darker blue."

Sen raised an eyebrow.

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. I'm sick of looking like a little girl."

"Okay. But I'm only going to make it Semi-permanent. That way if you don't like it, it won't last too long."

Kiera smiled.

"Great."

/t/

Torn stepped out of the shower (doing his signature double take upon exiting the stall) and grabbed a towel (that he'd actually remembered to put onto the warmer built into the wall) so he could dry off. For the moment, he was relaxed despite the ever-present nervousness that he got when he took a shower, because he'd at least solved one of his problems: he no longer was without shoes. But in the back of his mind he knew there was one other issue he had to deal with. What was he going to do at this dinner? (And he specifically requests you do not say "eat").

He and Kiera had kissed, which meant things would be different, there was no getting around that. And that really wasn't necessarily a _bad_ thing. At least now he wouldn't have to act like he only wanted to be her surrogate big brother, especially since he had never thought of her as a "little sister". But was he ready to _date _her exclusively? He wasn't really sure, to be honest. The truth was, she was five years younger than him, and even if she didn't act her age, she was unavoidable less mature than himself in some areas. Again, not really a bad thing, but she was a minor as well. Plus, how would she be as a girlfriend? What if she went psycho and started bringing him lunch in little paper bags to the office, or alphabetized his sock drawer by colour, or even worse, gave him some embarrassing nick-name like, he didn't know, "Schmoopzie"! He had serious doubts about this, but still, you never can tell. Or even worse, what if she got possessive like Ashelin had? He didn't know if he could handle that again.

Torn finished drying off and through on his clothing as quick as he could- he'd taken much too long philosophying, anyone could've been spying on him. He grabbed another towel and began to squeeze the access water out of his hair with reckless abandon; he really didn't care about split ends like the rest of the females (and probably any male) reading this, he already had great hair (not that he knew this). And what if they did start dating? What would their friends say? Normally, he didn't give an ottsel's ass about what they thought, but would they think he was a sick perv? Come on, any casual person would think that he was desperate and taking advantage of a naive young woman...

Torn slapped his forehead. She _was_ naive. Not Twelve-year-old-girl-hitting-puberty naive, but still naive. That would make things awkward when they...well, not that they would necessarily _do_ that...but even so. No, he could not take advantage of her like that. He looked in the mirror and shook his head at himself, a look of disgust on his face.

"You are one sick pervy soon-to-be-old guy Torn," he told himself gravely.

He through the towel in the hamper and left the marble covered bathroom feeling dirty despite just having washed.

/k/

"Precursors, I'm in love!"

"Me too!"

"You're a genius!"

"I know!"

Kiera and Sen looked at each other through the hand decorated salon mirror, beaming like idiots. Sen had just put the finishing touches on Kiera's new hairdo and both girls were ecstatic.

"Kiera, can I get a picture to show my clients? Please! I promise I won't give it to any modeling agents who will whisk you away to some far off place where they only serve coffee and organic fruit," Sen mock-begged, clasping her hands and crouching down in a squat.

Kiera laughed modestly at the display and shook her new and improved head at the woman's antics.

"I doubt you'll have to worry about that Sen," Kiera said, "but yes, you can take my picture if you really want to."

"Great! Now where did I put that camera? Ah, here it is! Smile!"

Kiera smiled awkwardly; she never did like getting her picture taken. It always made her feel uneasy and shy. The camera shutter clicked and flashed a second later, blinding her temporarily. After she regained some of her vision, she stood up and turned to Sen.

"Now I just need to get a quick manicure and I'll be all set," she said, folding the smock up and placing it on the chair, "Think they can fit me in right now?"

"Sure," Sen replied. Then she quirked a thin brow, "So, who's this guy any ways? He must be pretty special for the girl who never wears make up to get a new 'do and her nails done. It's not Jak is it?"

Kiera looked uneasy yet again.

"No, it's not Jak, but I will admit there might be a new guy in my life; I'm not really sure where we stand on the topic. I didn't get all spiffed up because of him though."

'Liar,' she thought to herself.

Sen looked sceptic.

"Yeah, I believe _that_. Well, either way, it was great seeing you girl! And you'll knock him off his feet."

"Thanks Sen. Now, where-or should I say who-should I go to?"

"Just pick a seat and they'll get to you. See you around Kiera," Sen answered as she turned to go help another stylist get a rampant blow dryer under control.

Kiera turned towards the long tables where all the different manicurist were set up. There was an open seat next to a darker skinned woman down at the end. She walked to it, her hair feeling much lighter and choppier than usual. She made it to the vacant seat and sat down. The woman she noticed before was picking a colour polish with her own manicurist. Up close, Kiera noticed how beautiful she was, in a very big sort of way. She had a mass of dark glossy hair and the brightest violet eyes she'd ever seen. Her clothes were very trendy and expensive looking, along with the copious amounts of jewelry she had on every inch of skin. She was extremely curvy and very tall. She chatted openly to the woman doing her long nails and seemed very friendly. Kiera liked her right off the bat.

She greeted the manicurist and asked her to do a simple shell coloured paint job. The woman nodded like she understood, but it was hard to tell-she was obviously foreign and Kiera doubted she could even speak much of the language. She glanced over at the woman next to her, who caught her looking and smiled a huge, warm smile.

"Well, hello there! I don't believe we've ever met! I'm Orsellah," she said in a friendly accent that instantly reminded Kiera of Sig.

"Hi, I'm Kiera, nice to meet you," Kiera responded with a smile of her own.

"Well," the woman continued, "It's nice to meet you too Kiera. I saw you come in here girl and I must say, that new hair looks bitchin' on you!"

"Uh, thank you," Kiera responded a bit surprised, "I'm getting rather fond of it myself."

"Well you should be! I wish they could get my hair even close to that colour. Instead I have boring old black. Let me tell you, I have to get this puff,"she pointed to the locks brushing her shoulders, "relaxed every month!"

"Yeah, but at least yours is naturally thick and curly. I've never, not once, been able to hold a wave in mine for more than ten minutes," Kiera countered.

Orsellah laughed a big belly laugh that shook the bench they were both perched on.

"I like you kid. Say, haven't I seen you somewhere before? What do you do for a living?"

"Well, I'm a mechanic actually. I've been working on the new ports around town for a few weeks now."

"Really?" the woman asked, her violet eyes widening slightly, "Wow. I'd love to know how to fix machines and such. It'd save me a whole lotta cash whenever my zoomer acts up!"

"Hey, bring it to me next time and I'll make sure it doesn't happen again."

"I would, hun, but I'm not from around here," she responded with a doleful shrug.

"For real? Where are you from?" Kiera asked curiously. It wasn't very often she met people from out of town.

"I'm from Haven originally, but I moved up North a while back," she said, "to Fridgidus."

Now it was Kiera's turn to widen her eyes.

"No way, you really live all the way up there? Wow, we barely ever get anyone to contact us from the city, let alone visit! Why are you all the way down here?"

"Well, for work actually. You see, I dance," then catching Kiera's expression, she added, "Professionally. And sing too. I've had moderate success back home and came here to film a video."

The way she said it, Orsellah didn't sound conceited at all; she was just telling the truth. In all honesty, she didn't seem to think her career was anymore glamourous than Kiera's.

Despite her casual approach to it, Kiera was still impressed.

"Cool! I always thought that would be a fun job! I love to dance on the weekends myself. So, how long until you head back to Fridgidus?"

"I don't know, a few weeks. At least until we get enough footage to put a entire video together," Orsellah said with a shrug, "That's why I'm here actually, to get done up for shooting tonight. Then tomorrow I have to come back again for a new style."

"Yeah, I'm here for this dinner thing I have to go to tomorrow," Kiera said, blowing on the hand that had just been polished, "I'm not too sure what it's about to tell you the truth."

"Dinner thing? Hey, it isn't at some Celestial Hall place is it?" the other woman asked with a surprised look.

"Yeah actually, I think it is. Don't tell me you're invited too? You're kidding me?"

They both started laughing now. When they finished, Orsellah said, "Yeah, a friend of mine is one of the guys behind the curtain, you know, a techie. He heard I was in town and asked me to drop by. Nice guy, very _flamboyant_, if you catch my drift."

They both laughed again then continued to converse about how weird the people they knew tended to be and the latest oral care available in their respective homes.

/an/

Jeez, I am so sorry guys! I really didn't mean to go so long without updating, but you know how the summer goes: it seems like just a week ago I was finally finishing Driver's Ed and now I have my permit! So I made this chapter extra long as a sucky apology! Sorry!

-mecca-dog


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